In Between Our Lies
by of monsters and me
Summary: Love, anger, frustration. Gods, mortals, demigods. This has it all. PJO & Heroes of Olympus one-shots and drabbles.. ::Two half-sisters have a very wonderful argument about, you guessed it, love.:: CharlesSilena
1. Bittersweet

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**Yes, yes, I know. I'm in over my head. "What? Janae has FOUR stories to work on now?" Well, this will be easier because**

**1. It's random; I'm way good with random.**

**2. It is a collection of everything; I can write about whatever! So . . . Why, yes, I do have ANOTHER story =]**

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In between our Lies

_One: Bittersweet_

He used to love her. When he would kiss her, planting cold pecks down her fragile neck, she would feel wanted. _Loved_, even. And she absolutely adored feeling wanted; she was only a minor goddess, after all. Who knew of her but few? So when the gods fought over her, she was silent. Content, even, in staying where she was. She had a palace, a man who loved her and ruled over many; why would she want to leave? Go back to being unnoticed? She didn't.

She was so young then, so naïve. And — if anything else — fragile, seeking even the slightest bit of attention. She ate the pomegranate seeds — would've eaten the _whole _pomegranate had her mother not snatched it away from her. It was a bittersweet fruit — it made her mouth shy away in disgust, a natural instinct. But she ate it, of course. It kept her with _him_; her love, her forever.

She got her wish — in the end, after causing mortal suffering. The first few nights were pure _bliss_, pure joy. It wasn't like anything she'd ever experienced. He would hold her tenderly—like she was the most fragile thing in the world. He would stare when she left the room, his gaze lingering in the exact spot she was a moment before. They were perfect; two halves of a whole.

And then came the wedding. Hera hated it - of course - thinking it "too gloomy; not enough flowers, my dear." It might have been "too gloomy" with "not enough cereal" to her mother, but that didn't mater. It wasn't her mother's wedding, after all, and she was with a man she loved; isn't that what really mattered? Finally, everything was looking up, and nothing was going to change that. She was going to be happy forever, right?

Wrong, as always. Nemesis was just out to get her, wasn't she?

First came the _silent treatment_. It was over a silly thing this time - should they consider minimizing the space in the Elysium? Sure, they had fights before, but never of this magnitude. Then came the other women. She couldn't remember who the first women was; it was too long ago. All she remembers was crying bitterly, wishing that she had never eaten that dreaded fruit. She really wanted to curse that mortal - or maybe it was a nymph - right then. But maybe she was hoping it would end right there.

Again, she was wrong. She seemed to _always _be wrong. It was a curse as well as a gift.

There were - are - _many_ more women. Some mortal, some nymph; but he was cheating on her all the same! And - even in this new era - he still _cheats_! She knows when he leaves without saying anything - sometimes it's just a few nights, others it's _months_. He leaves her to rule his domain _alone_. Considering the circumstances it might've been _nice _to hold such power, to rule over so many. But she craved his company too much; she would've gladly given all the kingdoms in the world for his heart again.

Then there was that _mortal_ - Maria di Angelo, with her filthy little demigod children. And two at that! She was glad when she died by Zeus' hand; she wouldn't be blamed this time, and the mortal would be gone. He would come back, right? But no, he cared more about his precious _half breed _children than of her.

Those few months with her mother used to cheer her up, but now it did little for her. No longer would she crave the beauty of above - the sun, the flowers, the singing birds. _He _was all she craved now. He was the only thing she wanted; she would do _anything _to get him back. She would beg and find some way to steal Zeus' lightning bolt if he asked. If only he would even speak to her in some way . . .

He loved that mortal; she made him laugh, smile. But that was her job, wasn't it? Isn't that what a good wife does? She wanted to be the one who made him laugh, who made him sing, who made him cry. She wanted to be the one that made his heart flutter just as he did to her. No, maybe she didn't even want that - that would be asking too much. _All she wanted was one kiss farewell_ . . . Or maybe that he would speak to her in that kind, caring tone from so long ago . . .

Persephone was still desperately in love with Hades, but his heart had now been captured by Maria di Angelo - the mortal who had been killed.

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**That was good, wasn't it? I liked it, of course. Well, I'm supposed to be doing homework now. . . I don't know when I can say I'll update next...**

**I'm on vacation now, by the way. It was a really long drive; thank gods I'm not ADHD...**

**keep ritin foreva**

**bookluva98**


	2. Dear Diary

**Vacation. On a sucky computer. Gonna hurry and post now..**

In Between Our Lies

2. Dear Diary

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Retrieved from: Bianca d Angelo

Status: dead, as of the quest for Annabeth Chase (daughter of Athena) and Artemis (goddess)

Dear Diary,

Some people came today; odd people. If there is a god - and not many gods - then I would've prayed that they didn't come. Why did they flip my life upside down? Is being an orphan not enough? Not that I particullarly love moving around place to place.

They say there are gods - many gods, and not just one. The Greek ones we learn about in school. Poseidon, Zeus, Athena, Hades, Hecate. All of them. They say I'm a half blood - and a powerful one at that. I never knew any of my parents - I've been an orphan forever - so why is my godly parent? Maybe I'll never know. Maybe I'm okay with that...

But, still, my parenthood is a mystery. Some part of me wishes I knew; though the other part warns me that chaos will ensue if I did know. Oh, the price of being a demigod!

But, I worry. Though, not for myself - how selfish that would be! - but for Nico. He thought this was the coolest thing ever, didn't he? Didn't he know the price of this all? Of course not; he's too young to have all this on him. Maybe I wish that I were an only child, so that he would have some normal fate. We're just two small beings in the grand scheme of things.

Artemis came for us today - she helped. Oh, how shocked I was to see her and her Hunters! Scared me half to death when they came. I wasn't sure why they shunned all of the boys at first - there were only three - as I didn't care much for them in my studies. Hades - god of death - was my favorite. How underappreciated was he!

Artemis wished to know if I would join her hunt. And leave Nico alone . . . Some part inside me willed myself to stay, but how could I? I've never had any friends . . . Only Nico . . . I wanted a life outside of being a sister.

So, I said yes, but I left Nico alone! And all Nico ever had was me.

Oh gods, I'm sorry, Nico.

I'm immortal, and now you're alone.

Bianca

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Excuse my horrible writting. Bad computer..


	3. Waiting

**Vacation took a real toll on me. Between Disney, homework and family time, I barely had time to write. Just kidding. But I was really busy; still, I found time to write. Of course I did! How could you ever doubt me? Well, I would've updated sooner if I actually had wireless . . . We had Internet, just not wireless . . . ***** sobs * I know; horrible. Anyways, enjoy!**

**So sorry about the spelling mistakes in the last chapter. Had a really sucky Disney computer (long story) and it nearly took me thirty minutes just to post that… And there was a time limit so...

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**in Between Our ies**

**3. Waiting**

Lying still, not stirring in the slightest, within the deepest pit of Tartarus can be unbearable, even to a god. But, some day soon, all the waiting would pay off. Kronos would get his revenge – the justice, which he had been so deeply deprived of, would come. The Olympian cowards would pay.

They would cower before his mighty feet, trembling in fear!

Kronos just had to admire them, though. The Olympians had managed to dethrone him – by sheer luck, of course. His own children – almost all of which had been eaten – had defeated him! What irony, really; a cruel joke by the Fates.

But he was the rightful ruler, even if he did the same to his own father! Wasn't he? There wasn't a doubt in his mind.

And they had pranced about among the mortal world, worries dissolving, forgetting about him. What an outrage! But that was alright, though; what better way to take back his throne? He could think of none.

And he waits; watches by whatever means necessary, to make sure that this plan _works_. He will not fail. This time, his age would last longer than even the gods! Zeus' rule would be a mere dream while he ruled!

And that stupid Hermes boy came; what luck! Together – how sickening it was to work with a mere _mortal_ – they had devised a plan worth of Athena.

A plan to overthrow the gods. A new Golden Age of Kronos; where he would prosper in eternal glory.

And now it was working – old Zeus wouldn't know what hit him! All he had to do was wait . . . And watch his little plan unfold – a play worth of the Muses.

Finally, justice would be served. Finally. Waiting had served Kronos well, as much as he hated to admit.

**Love the reviews guys! Thanks! Review! Anonymous reviews are ALWAYS welcome! (sorry if this was so short...it was longer on Word)**


	4. Romance

**Hey guys, I'm back . . . Anyways, have you guys heard of this program called People to People or something like that (maybe it was Place to Place . . .)? Anyways, I got accepted into it. It's this really cool program where I go with kids from (insert city that I live in, starts with F, in United States) and we travel across country . . . Gods, I've always wanted to visit the Parthenon . . . Anyways, if you've been accepted and are in (insert city again) tell me! PM me! I don't care! I just want to know!**

**I've been accepted a while back; I just thought I'd mention it . . . Yeah, yeah, impatient people. I'll get on with this chapter.

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**In Between Our Lies**

**3. Romance; the petty language of the soul**

Little Thalia Grace secretly read romance novels. The old ones that were hard to understand, as well as the new and up-to-date stories. William Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Emily Bronte. Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice, the Twilight Saga. She hated how they were written – but oh! – how she loved the tales they told.

True love conquers all, they taught. They silently whispered of kings and peasants, tragic love triangles, and the life and lies of love. Love is an emotion: uncontrollable and unstable. You couldn't control who you loved, but once you loved someone, there was no turning back. At least, that was what they told. And Thalia – without a doubt – believed her secret friends.

She was currently reading a William Shakespeare novel, Romeo and Juliet; her newest and current favorite. Romeo was brooding his loss over Rosaline, but was convinced to go to a ball. There he met fair Juliet, and it was love at first sight. But their families hated each other; how unfortunate!

But in the end – after a great and complex tale – their love had conquered. Despite their family's differences, they had managed to grow close to each other. They had managed to love. Even after death had taken them.

Thalia thought of her mother and father; they had never wanted a child to take care of. She was just a pain to them; a nuisance. Their relationship was a once-in-a-lifetime chance - a fling. A one night stand. There was never any hope that they would love each other again. And Thalia knew that. But, she couldn't help wonder what would happen if her father had stayed.

"_These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume."_

Looking down at her book, Thalia though, _this is how it's supposed to be. This is what love is._


	5. Regrets

**So, since I've been gone so long, I'll skip homework a bit (even though I will probably get in trouble) and post a couple of the things I've been thinking. I owe it to you guys. I'll reply to your reviews later… I hope.

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**In Between Our Lies**

**5. Regrets**

She hates what she's become. An Oracle, they call her. Hah! Say what you will, but she just _knows _that she's a monster. She hates when she loses control, unable to keep her spirit at bay. That's when she feels so . . . so lost and confused. That's when she says things she doesn't even know. She blanks out then . . . and tells of the future. Death, failure, and rarely any good at all.

Her visions tell her tales of darkness and tragedy, pain and loss. And she hates it all. It reminds her that there is little good in this world now, that all humans have done is take away. It seems like there is little hope. And she just hates it all. There is nobody to comfort her then…

Only one. The sun god.

She hates him. She hates how perfectly he speaks, with just the right amount of concern. She hates how he always says the right things, and how it makes her heart flutter. She hates that he probably doesn't even know it, or – being centuries of years old – he likes leaving her wanting more.

But, she loves it. And she hates that she might even _love_ him. She desperately wants _not _to hate him, but she can't.

Wasn't it her lover who created the Oracle unable to love? Yes, because of Cassandra of Troy. It's tragic, really, how she loves the one who created the dreaded rule. It's so cliché and horrid all at the same time.

She's not even supposed to love at all – not supposed to love anyone. It feels so . . . _wrong_. Yet, it just feels so, _so _right. It's almost like a curse. But, bearing a curse would be better than this, she's sure.

At the end of the Second Titan War, she was sure this was her path. Not anymore. She wonders what would have happened if she said no. She wouldn't spout random things. She wouldn't forget what she just said. She could love…

Her visions when she tells prophecies are always the same thing. Her alternate universe is filled with laughter and joy and children. With Apollo and love. She hates how desperately she clings to that other reality. She holds it close enough that it could snake under her skin to ruin her.

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**Ah. My Apollo/Rachel fluff. I love it! I know it was sooo short, blah. Hey, in my defense, it's longer on paper and on Word. It's not my fault fanfiction stretches this stuff out...**


	6. Taken

**Okay, I'm so freaking ticked off right now, because my sister's iPod Touch – which, by the way, had most of my stories on there – just randomly deleted some (by some I mean mostly all) notes. And guess whose notes they were? Right, mine. Guess which stories they were supposed to go to? Right, this one. So, now I have to think of everything off the top of my head, after searching for five very long minutes. Yeah, tragic.**

**Okay, I gave up. I cannot write off of the top of my head about something I already wrote. It was supposed to be the love triangle between Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth. It was really good – if I do say so my self, of course, I'm a little biased.

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**In Between Our Lies**

**6. Taken**

Screams echo through the forest late at night, shadows creeping through the thicket of trees, unaffected by the silky glows of the moon. Camp Half Blood is filled with a murky silence apart from the random cries from monsters or animals. It's late – of course – and all of Camp should be asleep, dreaming the future or other magical nightmares. But a boy – a man, really – wanders through camp, oblivious to the seemingly odd chill in the air.

His features weren't genetic, really – if one knew his parenthood. Of course he would have black hair, sea green eyes. Of course he would smell of sea – he was a son of water, or close enough to it. And of course he was a troublemaker; no wonder he was wandering at night. He wasn't some good little demigod, after all. And the sea cannot be contained.

He was heading for the lake – or so it seemed. The water had always calmed him, hadn't it? He would've gone with his blond little Athena girlfriend, but he didn't want to act clingy. The girl surely wouldn't have minded, but all the same he didn't want to be a nuisance. If he knew the future as the Fates did, then he wouldn't have gone at all. He would be trying to sleep – safe and sound in his cabin.

A wolf's howl – they had wolves here? – and then silence once more. Rustling leaves, though there was no breeze…

"Who's there?" his tone was calm, level. The black-haired man had no reason to be scared, of course, he had the curse of Achilles now.

"Me," a voice in the wind whispered through unmoving lips. And then the world went black…

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**So, yes, this is how I imagine Percy getting kidnapped... Yup. And, sadly, I am still ticked off...please review, i might feel better**


	7. Demeter Girl

_In Between Our Lies_

_7. My Little Demeter Girl_

Everyone thinks I'm supposed to be with Katie Gardner. Even the Ares kids – which probably seems hard to believe. _Especially _the Aphrodite kids. I might even think so, too. But she's perfectly happy with Will Solace. (Do you know how much I hate him?)

The Aphrodite cabin are always gushing about us – we're probably neck-and-neck with "Percabeth." I'm not sure if I like that. Sometimes, when I sleep, I dream of their voices haunting me as I run… "Travis and Katie, so cute!" "Tratie, that's their relationship name, you know." "Come on, just go and sweet her off her feet, dear!" "Will is _so _much better looking than Travis, but they're just meant to be!"

I like to think I'm the bigger person for not kicking Will's ass. Katie says I still act like a five-year-old. I'm pretty sure I caught her smiling then.

Gods, Katie never just smiles, she _glows_. Her face lights up the whole sky and you think you're the most important person in the world. When she smiles, life just comes alive. Flowers grow. It's kind of like Snow White in the flesh. Of course, I'm a little biased.

I wonder if Katie knows I like her. Hell, I might even love her. Gods, I'm in deep shit now, 'cause Katie's got Will. And all she ever needed was Will – and not me. Never me. Never good 'ole Travis – 'cause he's the one who ruined your cabin, remember? Remember that, Katie-kat?

I still remember when she first came to camp; all sweet thinking boys still had cooties. You could tell she was a daughter of Demeter right away. She was just . . . so into nature and everything. Those were the days… The days when dating just meant holding hands and all. I kinda miss those days.

Her mom didn't even claim her right away! Do you know how many times I thanked Aphrodite for that? As if a guy like me would ever thank the goddess of love! But I did, about a million times. 'Cause once I got a good look at Katie, I knew. I knew that she was _the one_. It wasn't even a love-at-first-sight kind of thing. It was just 'she's beautiful, she's amazing' and then I guess I fell in love.

And then – dammit that Katie. She just went and hooked up with that preppy little Will Solace! Didn't I make it clear that I liked her? Not clear enough, I guess. Maybe I should've done what Percy did: grow close to her, be her best friend. That plan usually works more often that not.

Dammit.

I swear on the River Styx that I, Travis Stoll, will get Katie Gardner back. I'll get my Katie-kat back.

_Now it's finally official._

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**I just love these two! I am sooo mean to them, aren't I?**


	8. Let Them Know

**You know what's sad? This has more viewers and chapters than "Secrets Second" - my other story, please go check it out - but this has less reviews. It makes me sad, 'cause I'm such a review whore...

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_In Between Our Lies_

_8. Let the gods know imperfection_

[Fear]

He was scared. Yes, the great and mighty Poseidon was scared. It was plain and simple, clear as the water in a pool, and it was _embarrassing. _But who could blame him? The war had brought so much on the immortal, and it was his right to fear. Sometimes it was okay to be scared; gods are allowed to cry and feel _emotion_. But he was still scared.

Scared that Percy would _die_. Scared that he would lose this war with Oceanus, his rival and uncle since the beginning. Scared that they would _all_ lose to Kronos. And he was scared that poor Sally would die – this was _his _war, not hers. Why should she suffer?

But his fear was exactly what drove him to win; it made him strong. He would not give in to the enemy. For Sally. For Percy. For Tyson. And for his kingdom.

They would win this war. He had no doubt now.

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[Sorry]

He knows he was the reason for this war. Of course, everyone tries to deny it, saying how it was Luke's fault. He gets really angry then; so, _so _angry. It's sort of scary, actually; it's like he's a _Titan_.

If only he wasn't captivated by May. If only May didn't try to be the Oracle. Everything would be better then, if not totally different from this present. He knows he can't change the past, but he wants to _try_. Oh, he wants to try so badly. Because he hurt May – his absolute pride and love _May _– and Luke. Luke: his son, his friend, his absolute favorite out of all of history. How could he ever forgive himself? He can't.

He would curse the Fates if he could – he would've _years _ago if the Ancient Laws did not prevent him. But that wouldn't fix the problem; it couldn't change the past. And it certainly wouldn't give May her sanity, or Luke his life. He hates that most.

He just wants everyone to know that he's sorry, because even _gods _– the absolute picture of perfection and immortality - aren't perfect. They do make mistakes.

He's sorry for causing the war. He's sorry that he told May she could become the Oracle – even if he tried to stop her. He's sorry he watched over Luke but couldn't do anything because _he is a god_. He's sorry for blowing up and bitching to Percy and Annabeth.

_He's sorry that his list of apologies couldn't be a little bit shorter.

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**So that was Poseidon and Hermes. Yeah. I just wanted to put that; I don't know why...**


	9. Happy Endings

_In Between Our Lies_

_9. Happy Endings?_

Heroes don't get happy endings. And she knew that. Thalia Grace knew that with her entire being, and she _loathed _that. All the heroes had tragic endings – if they ever lived that long. Well, except for Perseus, son of Zeus. History always repeats, doesn't it? Not for Thalia. Because – even though she was a daughter of Zeus – she wasn't getting that happy ending. She wouldn't even live long enough to see a new day.

_Hellhounds. A hydra. Giants. Monsters surrounding her_, clouding her view, but that's okay. Because Annabeth was safe . . . Luke was safe, and she planned to go down fighting. Fighting with _everything _she had; her whole life had prepared her for this moment.

She wished she had a bow, a sword, something that would help her fight. All she had was her shield – her faithful shield – and a knife. Her sword – which had survived many, many battles before all this – had become dented and broken in the Cyclopes' cave. It had served her well.

She slashed, wacked, and rolled around – shield protecting her while she fell to the cool earth – but to no avail. And then pain – she remembers that so, _so _clearly. It rippled across her stomach, stretching towards her beating heart. She screams and falls – and all she can think is how it's so unheroic. How Odysseus or Achilles would've had the courage to fight more, even as the pain burned their intestines.

She sees a large paw, and then nothing. A strange, sort of eerie and ominous, darkness. And suddenly she is aware of everything.

Each breath of life among her – the campers, the trees, the nymphs. Every single speck of life is open to her, spread out like a map. She can pinpoint each one, tell you its exact location – that is, if she could speak.

This wasn't death, was it? Of course not, she was too aware of the living. She could actually feel Luke move, and she was actually scared. Scared because she didn't know what was happening. And scared because she suddenly knows that she could never see Luke again.

Thalia learns to love the blackness, the dark in which she was forced to endure. She supposes this is how the blind feel – unable to see but free to hear. She can hear everything – she'd give anything to be deaf. Laughter, fights, hushed conversations and secret meetings. She knows all. There is nothing you can hide from Thalia.

And so it breaks her heart when she hears Luke speaking to Kronos – that he's a traitor, and she couldn't tell anyone about it. She can hear, but in unable to move, speak, or see. She's never felt so helpless in her entire life.


	10. Ruined Hope

_In Between Our Lies_

_10. Ruined Hope_

Hope. It's so fragile. That's the _only_ reason she lets him take the jar – the _pithos _– away, because she hates seeing how frail it is; how humans have almost given up everything. She hates how breakable it seems; otherwise she likes feeling hope, so warm, within her arms. She wonders what humans did – or rather Pandora – to make this so easy to break.

But she's different. She's strong. That's why she was given full sight, right? To make everyone strong again, so hope will flourish once more. She's strong, so she'll make others around her strong.

Though right now she feels anything but strong. Percy rips hope away from her, and she wants to scream how he'll give it away; that we'll lose because of him. But, then he looks at Annabeth, and the future changes yet again.

So she stares out the window, looking at the once beautiful city, now ruined, dead bodies of heroes and monster dust everywhere.

And for once she wishes that mortals could see through the Mist, so they could know of the sacrifices friends make; so the world could once again be strong. But mortals won't know, and their hearts will still be filled with darkness.

So all Rachel can do is hope a vain hope, wondering how long this will last.


	11. Brains over beauty

**Okay, my shout out will be at the top instead of the bottom. Special thanks to: zynaofthenight, aleki98, iluvpercy101, ninjareader, cheesecrazee8112 and my anonymus reviewer(s) for reviewing this story! This really means a lot to me, guys. Thanks so much.**

_In Between Our Lies_

_11. Brains over beauty_

Her own daughter, in love with a sea spawn! You would think her own _daughter _would know better than that. Athena would much rather have her Annabeth love that Hermes boy, Luke, even if he was a traitor. It didn't matter; anything would be better than that wretched son of Poseidon. He was such an imbecile! She should've know that their friendship was a wrong choice from the start.

Aphrodite was always _gushing _about how cute they were together, but Athena didn't want cute. She wanted rational and practical, brains over beauty. And that son of Poseidon certainly didn't use his brains all that much; she would know. She told her daughter in her dreams once, "You could find someone else, you know. A future doctor or lawyer; they would be real good to you, Annabeth."

Her daughter answered with, "But I don't want a _doctor_, Mom. I want Percy, okay? Can you not get that through your thick head?" Athena really wanted to blow her up right then and there, but she didn't. She just left and used her godly powers to make Annabeth forget the dream.

And of _course _Poseidon would be okay with this, making Athena look like the bad guy - which she most certainly was not. In fact, she liked to think herself _neutral_. But who was she kidding? She was better off as the bad guy.

She hated to admit this, but Annabeth actually looked happy with the sea spawn. It was as if she actually loved him - which was Aphrodite's fault, no doubt. She could speak no ill of Percy, and he trusted her with his _soul _- or at least his Achilles' spot, but what was the difference? He might as well be giving up his life for her.

It was like love at first sight with these two - like something out of a fairy tale book, and Athena hated it. Because it questioned _everything _she believed in, and because she wondered what it felt like . . . to be in love; to be willing to give your life for someone.

Athena wanted to know love, with all her being.

**Yes, that was short. But hey, I'm kind of lacking inspiration . . . Any ideas are welcome. Besides, I post almost every day, and I'm already working on one for Hera. So, if I don't post tomorrow, go ahead and sue iTunes for deleting those stupid notes. I hate them; I'm never posting another note in there again. Never. But I'll try to have a longer one later . . . Spoiler: one of my one-shots is going to be an AU with Thalia/Percy. **


	12. I love you

**So this is an Alternate Universe where Thalia and Percy are together because Annabeth joined the Hunters.**

_In Between Our Lies_

_12. I love you_

"I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis..." Annabeth's voice rang through the halls, clear and proud. Percy hated how she spoke so . . . so _powerful _and she spoke like this was the right choice. It wasn't! She was being an idiot! Didn't she know how much she meant to Percy; how he'd much rather die than lose her? She was his _best friend _for gods' sake! He was beginning to think she might even be _more _than that.

"I accept your pledge. Rise, Annabeth Chase, my new huntress and lieutenant." Annabeth rose, and Percy all but pulled her back. He couldn't, of course; he liked not spontaneously combusting at a random moment, mind you. He looked at Thalia - he had almost forgotten she was here, in the heat of the moment - and she had one single tear going down her cheek. So he wasn't the only one chocked up with grief, then? She was losing a friend as well, he realized. She subconsciously took a step closer to him.

"I guess we're in this alone now, aren't we?" She asked, gripping his hand tightly. Too tightly, he realized as she almost burnt his hand off. Thalia was about as powerful as him, it seemed. Except, this tremendous amount of electricity felt so _good_. It was nice and warm and left a fuzzy feeling. Now all that Percy was aware of was _Thalia_, who was still - subconsciously, of course - shocking his arm off.

He lost a friend that day, and what did he gain? Another love, it seemed.

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_It all happened so fast. _

They had been talking - no, brooding - together, over the loss of Annabeth. And then . . . Sparks, fireworks exploding within him. It was magical. It was wonderful. It was as unbearable as it was unbreakable. The kiss was a secret passion, an obsession. It wasn't right - their fathers were enemies, why should they be lovers? It didn't matter, though, because they did it anyways. They never stopped, even when Zeus swore he would declare war - of course, he gave in eventually.

She knotted her fingers within his hair, and it felt so _good_. Sure, he felt like he was betraying Annabeth, but it was _her _who betrayed _him_. So why not share a little, harmless kiss with Thalia? Sure, their friendship would get awkward, but so what? Nothing was going to happen, they just got caught up within the heat of the moment.

Wrong.

It was _so _much more than a little, harmless kiss, because that kiss awakened desire and lust - and love, though that came later on. After he gave up on Annabeth, all he wanted to do was hold Thalia, forever. He wanted to be there when she was hurt, to help when she was lost. He knew she would never need it - his help - since she was stubborn and a natural leader and liked to do things on her own. But, he wanted to be a good boyfriend to Thalia. He really did.

* * *

"I love you," she whispers to him. Her eyes are filled with tears.

"Then why did you leave, Annabeth?" he asks, his voice cracking. No, he wouldn't cry; he has Thalia now, everything is okay. But it's not, and he knows that.

"Because I needed _peace_!" she cries, tears spilling even though she tries not to.

"I would've given that to you!"

"And what, who would've been the Hunter?" He doesn't answer, just walks away.

"I can't leave the Hunters for you, Percy, so I hope you're happy with Thalia." Her voice is filled with longing and pain, but her words are true. Percy looks back once more before he rounds the corner, leaving the blonde alone in an empty street.

* * *

They were never supposed to have worked out. There was only two choices with Thalia and Percy: be best friends, or worst enemies. Becoming _lovers _was never an option; it was wrong. So, so terribly wrong, and so _right _in so many ways. Thalia and Percy were a match made by Aphrodite; there was no doubting that. The way they looked at each other; hateful and passionate all at the same time, was so unrealistic. It seemed like they were lovers, and enemies, and best friends all at the same time. It was so wrong, and right.

Sure, Thalia saved Olympus from Kronos, but she saved _Percy_, too. He was just so _depressed _when Annabeth left - he wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, he would just sit. Sit and reminisce about the old days. It was like a Shakespeare story come alive. Thalia came and saved him; the way Juliet saved Romeo or Bella saved Edward.

Their love wasn't easy; it was rough but passionate, magical but so easily broken. Percy still wonders how it would be like if _Thalia _joined the Hunters; he would've saved Olympus, and he would be with Annabeth. It would be as easy as breathing, unlike the addictive love he had with Thalia.

But that's okay, because he loves Thalia now, and there's no going back. He'd be with her, _forever_.

* * *

**Okay, that probably wasn't one of my best . . . That was probably confusing. I'm so sorry, okay? Will you forgive me? And review already . . . ?**

**I, bookluva98 (in actual company known as Janae), accept Anonymous reviews. So, have at it! The more the merrier!**


	13. Red

_In Between Our Lies_

_13. Red_

Red is the color of lust, of desire, of hatred. Red is also the color of love, of joy, of warmth. Red is many things. For Apollo, red is Rachel Dare's hair. And anything associated with Rachel Elizabeth Dare was considered good.

Sure, Rachel was his Oracle, so what? He's fallen in love with his Oracle's before. Just look at Cassandra of Troy or Sandra from Atlanta. Nothing bad ever happened to them – minus the cursing Cassandra part. All he had to do was love them from afar. But he was tired of that. It was just his luck that Aphrodite was getting bored.

He could – of course – get rid of that stupid rule he had made millennia ago. They'd be happy – even if he never heard the end of it. But he's getting tired of being the player – of having to leave when another one of his lovers has a child. It's weird, it's frustrating, and it is most definitely painful. Painful for _her. _Painful for _him_. Painful for the child. He's tired of the pain, of the agony. But he has to keep his image or else the taunts will haunt him for eternity.

So he must love her from afar, because the last thing he wants to do is _hurt _Rachel. The last thing he wants do is make her sad, ashamed, even. It's almost excruciating pain – not being with her, not kissing her – but he's not going to do that. He's not going to have _another _child with _another _young women. She's not even in her twenties yet – she still has college to go through; still lives under her parents' roof. She can't have a child, much less be dating a god who's a _player_. She would never hear the end of that.

Apollo wants so desperately to be with Rachel, but he can't. He has _her _feelings' to think about; he won't be selfish this time.

* * *

**Yeah, this was suckish, too. Not one of my best . . . **


	14. Perfect

_In __Between_ Our Lies

_14. Perfect_

Immortal marriages never seem to last that long – the passion seems to fade even faster than a mortals' relationship. Hera, of course, knows this better than anyone. This _is _her forte, after all. She does get paid to know these things, doesn't she?

Everyone seems to think that this goddess is some grumpy, heinous _witch_. She's not. So what if she wants a _perfect _family? Doesn't she have a right to? All she wants is someone to love her, to have little, beautiful babies with. Is that so much to ask? Apparently, yes.

Maybe she does want the perfect family, but who doesn't want that? She's tired of her family's bickering; it's happened all too often. All she wants is peace; she's never known peace her whole entire life. She _deserves _peace, doesn't she?

Her father was probably the crappiest father in the history of fatherhood – he ate his freaking children, for gods' sake! And her _husband _– her husband! – well, she could write a _list_ of things wrong with him. And then the war – this war that should have been resolved _millennia _ago, is here. It's back, and Kronos is coming. As if she needed that!

And to top it all off, she's _watched_. She can never be too careful; always deciding what to say before she says it. It seems as though all eyes on Olympus are watching her, just waiting for something new to gossip about. Maybe if she had Aphrodite's personality or looks she wouldn't care. Maybe; maybe not.

Sometimes she wishes she were a minor goddess – the goddess of perfection or peace. Then she wouldn't need to be the center of attention – eyes always on her – she wouldn't need to be watched every minute of every day; someone just begging for her to do wrong. Hephaestus TV cameras wouldn't stalk her from dusk until dawn. She could have peace. She would really like that.

**Okay, this was probably worse than my other one's with the gods in it; I personally think Persephone's is the best. That was my pity chapter for her. Anyways . . .**

**Sorry I couldn't update yesterday; had makeup work, school stuff, blah. I'm currently failing science, and some ideas just come to me but I can't finish them. I'm sorry.**

**If I don't update this weekend it is because either:**

**A) I still have make up work (sorry it's not done yet).**

**B) My parent's found out I'm failing science.**

**C) I get grounded**

**or**

**D) I can't think of anything . . . Love you guys! =]**


	15. Sight

_In Between Our Lies_

_15. Sight_

She saw visions, scary things. The little girl had to wonder if she were crazy, for when she told her father he would say, "Rachel! Do not trouble me with your silliness! It is not proper for a young lady such as you to behave so." Of course, the little girl did not yet understand her father's complex words. She would stare up at him, green eyes pleading, before he would order her away.

And when the girl would go out during the day — to look at paintings, or _shop; _she hated that — she would find _them _again. Giants, two-story dogs . . . and people with only one eye, among other things. It wasn't until she was in grade school that she learned to name them all – and by then she knew not to tell anyone of her secret nightmares; her visions. People would deem her crazy, "crazy little red," they called her – she hated that even _more _than shopping.

Greek mythology, she learned, had all these creatures that she saw; sometimes they were Roman, too. It didn't matter; all that mattered was that she could see things that other people _didn't _see. Was she crazy? Did she have some weird illness? She imagined how the news would handle it if the Dare family had a crazy daughter born into their family. Not well, she decided later. _They'd make a mockery of us, _she thought. _Father wouldn't like having a crazy daughter; bad publicity._

So – even as she grew older and wiser – she never told anyone her dangerous secret. She would disappoint her father if she did that. She wouldn't have friends if she told anyone. Grade school girls like friends; different was weird, it was _wrong_.

* * *

There came a time where she dyed her hair red – a most wild and beautiful red that reminded her of a fire; uncontrollable and unstable, just like her – and people marked that as her rebellious stage. Instead of her neat and _responsible _blond – a nice shade of blond, not too white – her hair was not wild and red. _Don't worry_, her mother reassured her father, _this is natural. All teenagers are like this. She'll grow out of it soon enough; she'll be old enough to keep the family name then, I suppose._

Then she decided she didn't want to _keep the family name _or whichever; she wanted to do something of her own, something that marked her as _special _and not _crazy_. She wanted to be an artist. In the world of art nobody judged _you _– just what you drew. She could draw anything then.

She could draw the things she saw; all the monsters, all the visions, and nobody would call her crazy. _How talented!_ she imagined they would say. _Why, I've never seen anything like this. Where do you get your inspiration?_

"Oh nowhere," she would answer, "I guess it's just something in my head." _If only they knew. . ._


	16. Let Go

**So, this might not make sense and just be a waste to some people. Whatever. Enjoy anyways. Now for my math project . . . (Did you know I had a project for every class this week?)**

_In Between Our Lies_

_16. Let Go_

_"Letting go has never been easy, but holding on can be as difficult. Yet strength is measured not by holding on, but by letting go."_  
~ Len Santos

She had read somewhere, "I choose and my world was shaken. So what? The choice may have been mistaken; the choosing was not. You have to move on." She totally understood that – the quote; letting go – it seemed a part of her chaotic life.

This was an opportunity of peace, of friendship; an offer of a second chance. She never thought she would get that. But then again, she never dreamed of peace – it always seemed so out of reach, some sort of comfort. Besides, peace didn't really make things fun. Peace made things boring. There was no kind of life in that. A demigod would never earn the boring life.

But now, after everything she'd been through, she _wanted _peace. Peace meant comfort, home, solace. Peace also meant being one with nature – but it was really the reprieve from everything that she was looking for.

This wasn't about her past, or her present; this was for the future. The Olympians weren't ready for war, or some crazy seventy-year prophecy. They needed time. It wasn't her who was meant to be the hero. It was Percy.

She was okay with that, though. She didn't want to be the leader, for once. She liked living some kind of life where you had a _routine _of some sort. It assured her that she would be able to live through the day, and that brought comfort. There was no other option. Her whole life was resting on this _one _choice; it was a crossroad.

"Thalia Grace, will you join the Hunters?"

_Yes_. This wasn't about Luke, or anyone. Annabeth was old enough to take care of herself; she didn't _need _Thalia now. Besides, she had Percy, and she was obviously in love with him. As for Luke, well, whatever they had died long ago – right when she turned into a tree. It was over now; he was a traitor. They were on different sides of the war.

"I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis . . ."

_Goodbye, Luke, I'll always love you . . ._

_Forever._

And as she finished the pledge, she sealed away her heart.

**Hey, me again. Still failing science, by the way. (CHECK OUT MY OTHER STORIES!)**

**Thanks to everyone - sorry i can't name you all, gotta go - for reviewing. Happy half day - 'cause I have a half day on Mon.**


	17. Don't Trust Me

**Okay, so I was listening to "Don't Trust Me" by 3OH3! for some strange reason and I thought, "I need to write a fic about this." and then I wondered "how.." and if this would make any sense or not. It might. It might not . . . This is my first song-fic or whatever.**

**Note: this takes place in an AU where Nico is an emo, bad ass player and Thalia is practically the same but in a band called Aegis. (A rock band, might I add.) Hint of OOC; whatever. Don't matter; it's an AU. I can do whatever.**

* * *

**In Between Our Lies**

**17. Don't Trust Me**

"_Black dress with the tights underneath. I've got the breath of the last cigarette on my teeth . . ."_

Thalia Grace was never one to care about appearances, and this time should've been no different. It wasn't. Quite the opposite, in fact. At least she was safe to say this wasn't for some boy who would give up on her later. This was for her band.

Aegis; a rocker's secret delight. Made up of other delinquents, they actually sounded good. They weren't famous – yet – and they knew not to aim too far up, so right now they were only a local band. Still, it brought her some sort of joy hearing people scream her name like she was Shakira or something.

_Cigarettes . . . _She could smell it clearly now; only one person reeked of it all the time. Nico di Angelo; Thalia's personal tormentor straight from hell. The evil, badass Goth kid who has had more chicks than anyone could count. He acted like a bastard more often than not, but even Thalia had to admit he was a little hot.

* * *

"_You tell your boyfriend, if he says he's got beef. That I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him!"_

So close. Luke Castellan's face was so, so damn close. Their breath mingled, creating a sweet, heavenly scent, and he put his hand on the small of her back so as to gently move her forward. Their heads tilted sideways and . . .

Cough; there was an intruding cough.

_DAMMIT_!

"I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?" His tone was full of innocence, eyebrow raised. Demon from _hell_, that boy was.

"Jackass," Luke muttered angrily under his breath. Thalia wanted to put her hand on Luke's shoulder to calm him, but knew that wouldn't help.

"Come on, Thalia, our English presentation is due tomorrow, and Thomson hates me so we have to get it _perfect_. Unless you like getting a C- . . ." He walked away nonchalantly, each move perfectly paced, leaving Thalia and Luke alone once more.

"Go ahead," Luke mumbled, for she wouldn't leave. Secretly Thalia was disappointed; she wanted to _finally _have her first kiss . . .

So Thalia walked away reluctantly, disappointed and confused as to why Luke didn't kiss her when Nico left.

* * *

"_She wants to touch me . . . She wants to love me . . . She'll never leave me . . ."_

The days passed, and Thalia and Luke grew into a sort of couple. They didn't have that love-hate passion Percy and Annabeth – Thalia's friends – had. It wasn't random flings or friends-with-benefits type thing that Nico had with his many women he managed to seduce. Maybe it was some sort of childish infatuation, or brief moment of affection, but it wasn't love. There wasn't that so-called spark when they kissed or electric pull when they touched. It did, however, happen when Thalia's hands accidentally brushed Nico's in Home Ec.

Nico. Nico _freaking_ di Angelo.

She did admit, she thought about him a lot. Dreamt about him more often than not. It made her angry – the longing for Nico to appear in her dreams, where he was nice, the disappointment and realization when it was Luke . . .

It was wrong. Luke was her boyfriend – or whatever it was they were – and she shouldn't be pinning over Nico. Nico was the enemy; the illusion, the lie full of empty promises, the distraction from what was real.

But – she realized this abruptly after one of her Nico dreams – she didn't _belong _to Luke. She wasn't his wife or anything of the sort. She could strip him from her life as easily as you would cut a thread. Snip. Snip. _Gone_.

She was in love with Nico, but it was Luke who she belonged to.

* * *

"_X's, on the back of your hands. Wash them in the bathroom to drink with the band, and the set list. You stole off the stage, got red & purple lip stick all over the page. Bruises cover your arms, shaking in the fingers with a bottle in your palm. And the best is, no one knows who you are. Just another girl, alone at the bar."_

Okay, maybe she did have someone's number scrawled across her palm. Why did it matter? So what if she blushed when he called her beautiful and said her singing was pretty "rad?" That didn't mean Luke had to _hit her_, did it? Surely there was no excuse in _that _act of cruelty . . .

At first she'd been so _happy_, you know? This was a real big gig, singing at "Olympus," the most popular bar in town. And Luke was coming, too! He had _never _– in all the years she had known him – come to hear her sing. Never. But they were together now, and he was coming.

She was so _pumped_, so excited, and she had made sure this was the best performance of a _lifetime_. Luke was coming – she could never get used to saying that – and then this was a big opportunity in itself. This was a one-in-a-lifetime chance; they could become famous _overnight_. She really was good – nobody could deny that, and she sounded so _powerful_. Melodic, yet rocker-chick; smooth, yet rough.

And then that cute guy – brown skin, large hands – started talking to her, who would've thought? He took out a Sharpie – he really was prepared – and wrote his number down on her hand. He said his name was Charles. "Call me Beckendorf, please, I hate my name," he said, laughing, and she laughed with him. And you know what happened? _Luke hit her_. It was over between them now. Who knew that there was evil hidden beneath that beautiful yet friendly face?

She never would've guessed.

She found him kissing some other girl, too, and then he just _hit her_! Redhead – that was the girl, she had some "r" name - was clinging to him like a starved animal. Little whore.

And – in the end – who was it who comforted her? Not Luke who betrayed her or Charles whom she just briefly met, but Nico. Nico who she loved and hated with a fury buried deep within. Nico who she always thought of as an ass who could never stick with one girl. _Nico_ . . .

* * *

"_Don't trust a ho. Never trust a ho. don't trust a ho, don't trust me."_

She was a wreck – honestly and truly; emotional-wise as well as physically. It was Luke who had put her through this, not Nico. Why did she ever think he was a bastard, anyways? She didn't know anymore.

That night from months ago – that one terrible yet wonderful night – had changed everything. Rachel – she finally remembered that was the girl's name – was with Luke, but she got Nico. "I'm so sorry. He didn't tell me he had a girlfriend . . . Honestly, I wouldn't have done anything if I knew . . ." Rachel had apologized days later. Thalia wanted to be angry, but she just couldn't. It wasn't her fault.

She was actually sort of famous now – her band got on the radio only two times and they had some songs on iTunes. Frankly, her old dream did nothing for her now; it was Nico. Nico who stayed with her. Nico who didn't betray her. Nico who actually _changed _for her. Who would've thought?

He always greeted her with a smile now – instead of that brooding scowl that she still loved – and he actually _wasn't _cheating on her. _This _was love – that thing with Luke; well it wasn't. You have to learn from your mistakes, right? She's happy that Luke never worked out for her – surprisingly – because it brought Nico to her.

So, all's fair in love and war, and now she gets a happy ending. She knows it won't last, of course – she's not optimistic enough to think it will – so she just sits back and enjoys these moments with Nico. It's all she can do for now.


	18. Every Romeo to Juliet

**_Thank you to all my regulars: aleki98, zynaofthenight, AHumanRobot, and BlackAmethyst123 for reviewing my last chapter - my other two regulars, SparksFly97 and iluvpercy101 have yet to review, so thanks in advance. _**

**_Thank you shadowinthedark for adding this to your favorites. Thank you for everyone else - sorry, to lazy to check all the emails - for favoriting/alerting. This really means a lot. Okay, now I'm gonna have something at the bottom where it says all my reviewers and my favorite stories by them. You should really go check it out. I ALSO WILL HAVE A REALLY IMPORTANT A/N DOWN AT THE BOTTOM!_**

**_Warning: You will NOT understand this if you haven't read Secrets Second, my other fic. If you don't want to go read it . . . Just skip this one._**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_18. Every Romeo needs his Juliet_

Every romance story needs the same thing; Romeo, the guy who falls in love with the Juliet and of course, Juliet, the one who sweeps Romeo off her feet and together they ride off into the sunset. Every Romeo needs his Juliet; every Percy his Annabeth. Not necessarily all romance stories end in death – that was just Shakespeare's way. Usually the main character sweeps the leading lady off her feet, and they ride off into the sunset with a nice, quiet, "Happily Ever After."

But Nico doesn't get that. Because Nico is that outcast; the weird one, the strange one. So often does our society exclude those who express their individuality that everyone wishes to be fake. But Nico doesn't care what other people think – he's usually by himself, anyways. So what did it matter? It didn't. He never had anybody he _needed _in life, so there wasn't a reason to look good. But now, ever since he had Charity around, he needed _her. _He was hoping Charity needed him, too.

So what if she was mortal? It didn't matter if she was always tense when she slept, and never wanted to show her feelings in front of other people. So what? Why did it matter if she never really brushed her hair five times a day? So what if she was poor and needed to steal – and was probably going to steal from Nico anyways?

She was nice – at times – and knew how to kill a hellhound. Not many – besides demigods and gods – could say they accomplished such a feat. She was pretty, too – not perfect like the Aphrodite girls, or godly like Hera – but she was proportioned well. Five inches shorter than him, with fierce determination alight in her eyes.

She wasn't a killer like Ares girls, or full of prissiness like the Aphrodite cabin. She was special in her own unique, mortal way. Nico liked that most – the irreplaceable personality she has. She could see through the Mist, too. He rarely met any of them.

Except Charity hated him – she _did _hit him with a textbook, after all. So who was he to say that he might love her? Well, he wasn't planning on telling her. Why did she need to know? He could blend in easily with the shadows to protect her – not _stalk, _he promised himself – so she wouldn't need to know. She wouldn't be ashamed that the weird son of Hades likes her. She could live happy, carefree, and normal.

He was surprised how angry that made him – the thought of Charity living without him. Well, it was an Edward and Bella in the making, he supposed. So, he had a little hope that everything would turn out in the end. But he was a pessimist – always saw the jar _half empty _instead of half full – so he didn't have that much faith. It doesn't matter. He just knows he can't live without her.

_Every Romeo needs his Juliet; every Percy his Annabeth. That'll never change._

* * *

**Okay . . . so, my important A/N first, okay? The fiftieth reviewer - 50th people, five zero - gets to pick what my twentieth chapter will be about! Hear that, folks? I have a little contest going on!**

**zynaofthenight - Cassandra's Curse**

**aleki98 - I can't pick a favorite - I am a little biased, though - so I suggest just read all of them**

**AHumanRobot - okay, I have to go and read these - well actually there's only one but still . . . just go read it**

**BlackAmethyst123 - both of them are really good**

**Daughter Of Poseiden - I especially like "Waking up with Edward" and "Eclipse Poem"**

**that's it for now**


	19. Forget Me Not

_In Between Our Lies_

_19. Forget Me Not_

Nobody ever cares about us. We're the traitors. We're the enemies. We're _supposed _to be totally evil and heartless. I promise you we're not. All we wanted was a better life; being stuck in the Hermes cabin wasn't really the best option. Sure, the gods are our parents, but they neglected us. Why would we want to live that way forever? Why? Do you think we _like _not being remembered? It's not the jolliest life of them all, I assure you.

But still, I suppose we have no reason to join Kronos. There must have been a better option – I assure you, if there was, I would've taken it. I wouldn't have lost my brother in doing so. My brother is annoying – blonde and full of energy. I like to think I didn't deprive him of his personality when I left, but I'm sure I did. He was my twin –though we looked nothing alike – and he seemed to grow happier as I was around. And though I never spoke – I was always so shy then – he always found a way to include me in a way.

When I left I was confident and vain – foolish and arrogant in my stupidity. I left my brother – I had not wanted to condemn him to my life, but it did us no good – and he rarely seemed to need me; I did not miss him at first. He had always had his own group – randoms and newcomers from all the cabins. It never bothered me until I heard of how Chris left – becoming crazy was surely a better option; at least you would be remembered.

The place I was stationed at – I refused to think of it as a war camp or anything of the sort – was nice and homey. Everyone seemed to accept me there, with welcome arms – they did not prejudice against their godly parent's. This made me happy, and I did not notice their scratches and scars from many previous battles.

I had not known so many of our campers – not _our_, I realized this later; it was not my camp anymore – had left the other side. Whether it was in hope for a new life, or a chance to get claimed, I did not know, nor did I care. I should've paid more attention – these were my comrades, my new family standing before me. Life on Kronos' side was hard – much labor was involved. And, though I had never met him before, I heard the generals were mean and cruel – almost as bad as the master himself. I knew to keep to myself when the generals came around; they wanted you to shut up, do your work, and stay healthy for battle.

Sometimes I wonder if I would've lived if I had stayed with my brother – my little angel, my help, he was. Perhaps I would have been happier there – claimer or not. I still wonder . . . Though, now it is too late. As I stand in line – waiting to get evaluated – I see my life flash before my eyes. I seemed content at camp, not broken and hard-worked as I was with Kronos. I hope I get at least the Fields of Asphodel, because I know I cannot even have a sliver of hope in getting the Isles of Blest. I am the enemy of Lord Hades, what good did I do in helping him with the war? I did help Beckendorf – I remembered his name from camp – find the room he was looking for. He blew up the ship – that I knew – so surely I helped. Perhaps not.

I know that the generals and Lord Kronos will not grieve our deaths. Who were we to him? Nothing – just scraps, just the army in which he commanded. We would never be anything else. As I stand in the Underworld I wonder why I even bothered in leaving my brother in the first place.

It's my turn now, and if I still had a beating heart it would echo through this silent room. I count the seconds as they assess my life. _One . . . Two . . . Three . . ._

"Elysium," one whispers, silent as a ghost – no pun intended.

"What? Why?" I stutter, even though I should've been grateful and left at the mere mention of the word.

"Because, daughter of Até, you have helped us win the war. You have assisted in the blowing up of the Princess Andromeda." And I was ushered away, the wind seeming to carry my weightless soul.

The Elysium is a wonderful place – full of joy and happiness. I see one of the generals – Luke, or was it Kronos? – here, and I wonder what he did to deserve this, if he was also on the winning side. I ask another soul if they've seen – or even know of – my brother, and Silena was kind enough to say he's still alive.

There are wonderful flowers here – they reek of designer perfume, and I wonder if Silena is the cause of that. There is one that stands out to me most – the one that appears the least and adorns my cabin here. The _forget me not_, which seems to be forgotten even though its beauty could outshine a rose. It weeps blue because everyone knows of her, yet no one can remember her face.

And so I sing out into the night, the tale of the beautiful flower – the tale of my life.

_Forget me not . . . Forget me not . . . Forget me not, dear brother, for I am here._

* * *

**_Okay, I just stuck this up so somebody would finally review and get that 50 I've been waiting for. I had high hopes for you people - why did you let me down? Whatever._**

**_This ending might not make sense to some people, and these two are just OCs, okay?_**


	20. Of The Sea

_In Between Our Lies_

_20. Of The Sea_

_A baby's tinkling laugh . . ._

So clear, so peaceful, so full of life. "A boy," the nurse murmured quietly to Sally. Sally smiles adoringly; sea green eyes staring up at her in wonder.

"You have your father's laugh," she murmurs, "and his eyes, too. Beautiful eyes . . ."

"The name?" the nurse asks impatiently.

"Perseus . . . Perseus Jackson." And with that, Sally's eyes close from exhaustion – willing sleep to take her into his arms. The nurse hustles away, taking her well-earned break.

Nobody notices a mist forming outside the window, despite the sunny weather. A face could dimly be traced within the mist; a smiling figure that you would feel you've seen before.

And if someone listened quietly, they could faintly hear a conch horn blow. The signal of the sea.

* * *

He watches his son grow throughout the years. Nine, ten, eleven . . . Twelve. The year when the monsters would come more frequently. His scent would be stronger, now. Now that he was the age of twelve. Maybe his luck would finally run out; he would be declared "forbidden son" and be sentenced to die cruelly by the hands of unforgiving monsters. But _no_. This was worse. Far worse than anything he could have imagined.

A _Fury_. It was unthinkable. Unimaginable, even. But not as unimaginable as what came next. _The lightning thief_; that was what they'd called him. His son might've been a little reckless – that was true – but a thief? Who would think? Who would have been careless enough to succumb to the lies?

And to be sentenced to _retrieve _what he had been deemed to have stolen! How could one face that punishment? How could he watch as recognition flared across Chiron's face, knowing what would come? Why did he even claim him at all, then? He asks himself that a lot, during the time. It seems appropriate questions – as opposed to, _Will he live? Will his friends live? Will Zeus be appeased when he returns with the bolt? If he has the bolt? _

But he doesn't give up hope. His son is a fighter; he was a fighter; Sally was a fighter. It didn't matter what anyone else thought – he could have _really _been the thief – because he didn't care. If Percy really was the thief, then he would have been proud to say that he, Poseidon, was his father. He didn't want his son to feel unloved.

And – by some great miracle – he returns to him, safe and sound, almost. And Gabe – smelly, ugly, ruthless Gabe – had been turned into a statue, sold away to some unforgiving soul. It didn't matter about that, really.

Percy was alive.

He was home. He was safe.

For now, but he doesn't dare mention that to himself.

* * *

**Thank you, AHumanRobot, for being the 51st reviewer and I hope this appeses you. (Did I spell that right?) Because the 50th reviewer didn't answer my PM so . . .**

**Okay, I KNOW KNOW KNOW this wasn't my best, and I'm way sorry. I was just . . . so . . . totally . . . full of nothing in my head!**

**AND OH MY GODS THE LOST HERO CAME OUT! THIS KID I KNOW GOT IT SIGNED BY RICK! OMG!**

**And I was listening - yes, listening - to the Hunger Games on my iPod, and I fell IN LOVe with it! Go read it! Now I'm on Catching Fire! Gods, it is A-MAZ-ING!**


	21. Desire

_In Between Our Lies_

_21. Desire_

"We always long for the forbidden things,

And desire what is denied us."

- Francois Rabelaus

For her, this was partially true. Screw it, this was all true. She wanted to be powerful – graceful and kind in all aspects – yet live peacefully. But this was not so. At least, not when he came. Not when he danced into her carefully strung fate, reckless and flawless.

At first, she was intrigued – that was all – no questions asked. Then, as she started to grow close to him – this was _not _a part of her plan – she started feeling more than intrigued. Affection? Love? Lust? Maybe something even more than all these? Was there some sort of crazy, human emotion she had for him? For a _man_?

She had her honor to think about; her pride. She was too stubborn – truly a daughter of Zeus in all aspects – to think of telling anyone of her feelings that she had locked up within her stony heart. She couldn't even tell her sisters – though why she would want to was a question in its own – they would shun her. That would surely be a disgrace in her own misery. So she told no one, and no one sought any information of her in this matter.

He consumed _everything _that was hers – her time, her dreams, her thoughts. She had given herself over to him so completely, yet she was wholly unaware of it. It was as if he had caught her in a net, the way he would catch fish, and she would hope to be free – and it would be whisked away again.

She had always thought that being in love was horrible – it left you vunerable and weak. With love, someone had control over you. With love, someone could hurt you. Love was more dangerous than it seemed – though often people turn a blind eye, because lies are better than the truth. False pretences and affections are better than being stabbed in the back.

But love wasn't at all what she thought it was. It was not what she had expected it to be. It was better. It was worse.

It was frightening and breathtaking.

And he did not know of her secret affection for him – no one knew – and he was content in marrying someone else at first. He did not know she _loved _him. He did not know he had the highest _honor _of being the _first _man she had ever loved. Nor would he ever know. And that was almost worse than loving him.

Almost, but this secret desire was addictive, and he could not know.


	22. Little Girl

**This is based off the Disney movie, "Old Dogs."**

_In Between Our Lies_

_22._ _Little Girl_

Travis Stoll knew the day she reappeared into his life that this was going to change everything. He hadn't seen her in forever, what made her decide to rematerialize into his successful business-life? Was it because she had seen him on the magazines appointed "New CEO of Hermes Pranks&Jokes"? Maybe she wanted his money, but she was never like that. Maybe she just wanted him back – oh, who was he kidding? It wasn't for _him_, it was for _her._

Little Annabelle. Little Annabelle Stoll; the third-quarter demigoddess-in-training with her dad's hair and mother's eyes, her pranks and magical plant touch. The girl who was supposedly his daughter.

_"She's yours," she had said, "isn't she a beauty? She reminds me more of you than anything else."_

_"H-how?" he had managed to sputter._

_"You remember that night? When we were eighteen, just after the war? The celebration we had . . ."_

_"Oh," was all that managed to come out. "Why didn't you tell me, Katie-kat?"_

_"I was ashamed," she admitted. "I didn't want to be called whore and slut for being with you one night. Why do you think I took off with Will so fast? Left so early and came back so late? I knew she was in me even before I took the test."_

_"Why here? Why now?"_

_"She is already five, Stoll. I don't want her to live her whole life thinking Will is her father. 'Why am I not good with medicine?' she asks me, 'like Daddy?' and I don't answer because I don't have a good enough excuse. She needs to know you._

_"When she gets married – Hera knows she will, such a beautiful thing – I don't want Will walking her down the aisle, I want_ you. _Please, Travis, as a favor to me? Just be with her one weekend?"_

_And he was looking into those beautiful Gardener eyes, so he couldn't say no._

_He was stupid, so he couldn't say no. If only he knew what he was getting himself into first. _

Annabelle snapped him back into reality. "So, you're my daddy?" She looked up at him, confused and slightly annoyed that she hadn't been told the truth. And there was something else . . . Anger? Sad? Or was she ashamed of her mother, and possibly even him?

But he didn't want to know, so he just answered, "Yeah, sweetheart, I'm your daddy."

"Are you a mortal? Because Mommy says that mortals can't see through the Mist, and I wanted to know if you were a demigod, too, like me and Mommy. Are you, Daddy? Did you know that I can make plants grow really fast! And they just shoot up – whoosh – and they say, 'Thank you, little Annabelle.' You do believe me, don't you?" She finally paused for a moment, looking up at him.

"Course I do, hun. I'm a son of Hermes – you remember him? Mommy told you about him? – the god of pranks and travels and all that stuff. Well, that's my dad."

"Really? Cool! Once I made a sacrifice to Hermes – I just wanted to see what would happen – and I had a really nice dream with snakes that spoke and stuff! And guess what? I can do tricks and pranks really well!" Did Annabelle always talk at such a speed he had to strain to hear? Or was Travis Stoll just getting old? He hoped it wasn't the latter.

"You got that from me, Annabelle," he said, tapping her nose slightly with his pointer finger. "You can bet you did." He paused. "Hey, Annabelle, sweetheart, you ever been up on Mount Olympus?"

"No," she said sadly, "Mommy won't let me. She says I'm too young and have a big scent or something."

"Do you want to?"

Her eyes sparkled up at him when she answered, "Yeah!"

"Okay, then, let's go see if Grandpa is available, huh?"

**Whoosh - and that's the end! **

**Love it? REVIEW! Hate it? REVIEW! Confused about it? REVIEW! Want me to continue it? REVIEW!**

**P.S. The last one was Artemis. I wanted to see who would get it...**


	23. Memories

**Short and maybe pointless. For all those Silena/Beckendorf lovers, since I haven't given them any love. This is sad/happy/hopeless. Oh, just read on!**

_In Between Our Lies_

_23. Memories_

"Guess what?" she asked Charles that day.

"You're wearing new lipstick?" he had said, and she had been shocked, but laughed.

"How did you know?" He smiled in response, showing teeth.

"The Athena kids aren't the only geniuses." And you know what? That was the last real smile she had seen on his face before he left. She didn't know that – back then – so she just kissed him, and let her thoughts of the war slowly slip away from her mind.

Sometimes it paid to have a boyfriend who noticed things.

* * *

"You can't go!" she had screamed, agitated and angry at Percy. And Luke. And Chiron. And – for Kronos' sake – the gods. But she was mostly mad at herself.

"Silena, sweetie, I swear I won't be gone long. Just there and back. I promise," he swore, kissing her damp hair.

"Pinky promise?" she asked meekly, looking up at him. He put out his long, slender finger, and she shook it.

"Promise." _Luke won't lie to me . . ._

* * *

She still remembers the first time he told her he loved her. It wasn't at Fireworks Beach, or – gods forbid – the Big House, and it really wasn't anywhere special. But it was special enough – but only because it was special to Charlie, too.

It was the camp's forges – not like it mattered all that much.

He still said he loved her.

The warm fire had crept inside Silena's body and made her feel warm inside – and Charlie's arms around her weren't helping her feel cooler, either. She liked feeling his strong, safe arms around her – where _Luke _couldn't touch her – so she didn't ask him to pull away because of a little heat.

Suddenly, he presented a nice, little box towards her. It was pink and tied with a ribbon on top – just for good measure. "Open it," he whispered into her ear. So she did.

It was absolutely the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen in her entire life – besides his eyes. It had a diamond in the middle, two doves – a symbol for her mother – on either side. Silena had absolutely no idea what to say, so she just didn't say anything.

"It's a promise ring, Silena. I love you, will forever love you, so promise me one thing. Stay with me, and love me forever, too?" He didn't even have to ask, he knew the answer already.

"Yes," she breathed, still trying to take this all in – even though she _was_ a daughter of Aphrodite and this _was _her forte. "Course, my boo." He laughed – a clear ringing – and murmured a sweet lullaby into her ear.

"I love you."

After Charles Beckendorf died, she never stepped into the forges again.

**As Alexis - aka my buddy or aleki98 - pointed out, I do write differently depending on POV or computer or whatnot. Honestly, it creeps me out sometimes, whether that is for better or for worse - hopefully better.**

**My special thanks that gets updated ever odd number of chapters: justmemyselfiandme, BlackAmethyst123, larkgrace, Daughter Of Poseiden, aleki98, AHumanRobot, SparksFly97, and my anonymus reviewer(s) for reviewing the last couple or so chapters. Special thanks to my regulars (you know who you are)!**

** I'll be postin soon - maybe later tonight, dunno.**

**'Nough said.  
**


	24. Endless Loss

**This is random, vague and pointless - that's a warning. Do I care? Not one bit.**

_In Between Our Lies_

_24. Endless Loss_

When I took my vow I swore something to myself – I would never speak his name unless absolutely necessary.

Besides, what was he to me but a menace, a traitor? A danger to my friends, my family. _Nothing_. Nothing except my guidance, my heart, and my soul. Nothing else. I'm sad to say I'm still attached to him, though, even though I'm a Hunter. Artemis understands my predicament – she was in love once, too. Though she won't let me leave, or, Aphrodite forbid, kill me on spot – that would get me to him real quick, wouldn't it? – I'm forced to stay here. Rot here in my eternal sorrows. Of course I don't mind – Artemis is kind and the feeling of peace is quite a relief – but do I not want love? Surely something with him – even if he _was_ a traitor – is better than this perpetual misery?

I'm not sure anymore.

I'm not sure about anything at all; I have endless questions every night.

Was being a Hunter the best possible decision? Yes, always yes. Should I have left Luke all alone – did I really need to be the hero and have a last-stand near the Camp border? Sometimes yes, others no. Why am I not dead, because I'm sure I should be? My answer is: _They need heroes to be the bridge between two worlds. This is why you are not yet dead_. And then my last – always last – question . . . What if Jason was _alive_? Jason Grace, my brother, whom I'd failed to save from the grasp of my mother and Hera herself.

What if he was _alive_? Truly and fully – in flesh and blood and not skeletal like Nico summons – and right here at Camp? My answer is always: I don't know. He's dead.

And now Luke is dead, too. _Him_ – my brother, my lover, my friend – I had failed to save him, too, hadn't I? And now he is gone and I'm here – immortal and not quite whole, but almost happy. How is this fair?

It's not.

So every night I allow myself escape – and drown in my endless pools of suffering and loss.


	25. Complications

**This is the reason I hate to update two times or more a day - people never review BOTH of them, only one of the chapters. Anyways, this is to make up for the last one. It was crappy, wasn't it? This may just be equally crappy.**

**I couldn't care less.**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_25. Complications_

This is it, I guess. The moment we're all waiting for. The face-off between the two guys . . . Two guys who I might even love. Percy and Luke.

Percy; I was just his best friend. This was just another cliché girl-next-door story; except, not really. He was supposed to be totally untouchable – figures. I just seemed to want everything out of reach, didn't I? Of course I did; it was seemingly just another fatal flaw I have – if any demigod can get two instead of just one.

And of all the people I had to fall in love with, I get those two!

Luke - the now twenty three year old who's _supposed_ to be my big brother, and not my secret crush. Percy: my mother's worst enemy's son.

Complicated, isn't it? Well, that's the one word that usually associates with my life. Go figure. Let the daughter of Athena have all the rotten luck, why don't you?

It has to be Luke, doesn't it? Luke. My big brother. The one who I'm sure is in love with Thalia - who is, by the way, a Huntress of Artemis. No love. Perfect sob story right here, huh? It's a nice love triangle that's hanging by a thread – almost literally.

Then there's Percy. My best friend who just about has the world resting on his shoulders – he did have the sky on his shoulders, once. Throw a mortal Rachel Dare in the picture, and you've got everything down pat.

Okay, so maybe I don't love Luke anymore. It's all too _confusing_. This is probably why Mom doesn't fall in love, huh? She must think me real stupid now. And I'm supposed to be her "favorite" daughter! I really wish there was a god or goddess of emotions I could turn to at this point. But then . . . The question. He asks it.

There's no turning back now.

"Did you . . . Did you love me?" It's barely a whisper, and I have to answer it so he can rest in peace. I glance over at Percy. I don't think I even have to answer, because Luke knows.

But I do. Because I'm the Athena girl who wants things to finally turn out right. The girl who wants her life to stop hanging by a thread – the one who wants to build something permanent to make of for the ruins of her life.

"No." I never really did love him, did I? No, not really. Okay, maybe I did, but that doesn't matter now.

Luke is dead now. But . . . Percy is alive. See? Somehow I can wrap up some good into this. I knew there was a little bit of smarts up there in that brain.

**Go review the chapter before this if you haven't already.**

**If you don't - well, there is no *pretty* was to describe what will happen, 'kay?**

**Love you all this much -! Now, REVIEW!**


	26. Destiny

_In Between Our Lies_

_26. Destiny_

Being a Fate is hard, but being the Fate of _destiny _is even harder. Lachesis knows this better than anyone – mortals and gods alike, because _she _would know if _they _knew – since she is, after all, _that_ Fate. It is an honor – the highest honor, her sisters say – but is it really? It seems as much a gift as a curse.

Knowing _all _possible futures – though she weaves only one – what good is there in it? Surely one – and one alone – couldn't be _that _powerful? Didn't everyone deserve to weave their own futures, make their own choices? The answer was – would forever be – no. How would the storyline flow, the plot be fulfilled, if they were to choose their own destiny? It wouldn't, and that's all there is to it.

She doesn't even really _like _weaving. It was all so new and unfamiliar in the beginning – when the Earth was forming and jobs assigned, She had been happy – no, _eager_ – for this shocking new role. She was so young, and yet her fingers flowed easily, as though treading water. The familiar pattern formed and – day by day, week by week, _millennium by millennia – then it was_ all so natural. Natural and simply _boring_.

It doesn't seem fit that she has this burden all alone – the terrible responsibility of knowing everything by one who doesn't even know herself. Maybe if there was some other to share this burden – a strong, safe comfort – maybe then it wouldn't be so bad. But she can't leave her duties – her only rest is sleep – and who would visit her anyways? Surely no hero – she couldn't weave that! – and no god would visit her here. She didn't have time for lovers; all she had time for was the weaving.

* * *

She remembers every person whose fate she weaves, and their destiny. So it was no surprise when Jason and Perseus were meeting, that she knew _exactly _what would happen.

"Yes, yes" she would murmur occasionally while weaving. "You're on the right path, heroes." And then she would begin to weave again, giving her full concentration while giving none.

Jason Grace: Roman son of Jupiter, lord of sky. He _used _to be strong and wise in his time at the Roman Camp – not that he isn't now, of course, but he had changed. He was strong, brave, courageous, and a true wolf. Lupa could not have trained him any better than she had trained him now. Of course, all that training almost went to waste – since his memory was gone, but slowly returning. You did not want Jason Grace as your enemy.

Perseus Jackson: son of the Greek deity, Poseidon, and an illegal at that. He _was _– like Jason was – strong and wise, but he was also rash and caring. He had that fierce loyalty – a _fatal _flaw, it was – and he seemed almost child-like in his simplicity, and _stupidity_. Still, he was a good leader – able to move people, and give hope – and an even better friend. His personality at Roman Camp was beginning to change, though – no longer was he as caring as he was, nor as rash, though both those traits were still there – and Percy, if not able to see Annabeth, would never be the same again.

When these two heroes would meet, they had a choice: become friends, and unite against the Earth, or challenge each other resulting in bloodshed. For once, they had a choice. Fate was no longer in her hands at this moment.

Now it was in theirs.

* * *

Being able to weave a destiny is not all that it's cracked up to be. She knows what the others would say if she asked them, "Oh! I wish I had your job! Mine is so boring – low paid, too." They would complain – naturally, it was in a god's nature to complain – but they would also relish the thought of being in control of everything.

This is why _she _– instead of one of her sisters – was chosen to be the Destiny Weaver. _She _did not make rash decisions, and her power was not used in spite or hate. Rather, her calm demeanor was what allowed her to be successful. She was precise and diligent, and that's all she was needed for.

She didn't get this job because Chaos _wanted _her to – no, he was too wise to play favorites – it was because of her personality and her gift. The gift of sight – in more ways than one, she was like the Oracle of Delphi.

She knows destiny, and she knows she'll have this job until the gods die.

**This sort of makes up for my other ones, okay? The last two, I mean. Well, anyways, I had good news, but now I forgot...**


	27. Where are you?

**Okay, I had to do this in Excel, and I was really nervous. But then, my homeroom teacher said it was really good, and I was all, "Yay!" So, yeah . . . I was supposed to have prefixes and sufixes, and anyone who can find them all gets to pick the next chapter I'm gonna do! Okay?**

_In Between Our Lies_

_27. Where are you?_

One the outside it was an indifferent day – sky filled with a yellow sun that seemed a semicircle under a cloud, a camp bustling with campers working at top speed – and under false pretenses it would have been a happy scene. But if one looked closer the blue sky didn't seem as bright, the buildings as tall and there was not a sound to be heard. Silence. The happy scene had transformed into a funeral with limited interaction.

_Death_ . . . The word hung carelessly in the air, waiting for the ADHD – Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder – heroes to crumble into insanity. Their illegal-born son of Poseidon was dead, or lost, never to reappear again.

Percy Jackson: to most mortals, he was immature, irresponsible, with disapproving grades to match that mischievous face. But to the demigods of the northern hemisphere, he was a true hero. He could heal anyone who had hypothermia, and was a determined and loyal friend. Sure, he was antisocial when he first came here, just as everyone else usually one was, but he fit in perfectly when it came down to it. Whether he knew it or not, he was the leader of camp, and tensions rose when he was kidnapped.

Which is exactly why they had done it. Soon, their mistress' plan would be put into action. Camp Half-Blood would crumble, and they would rule.

It was time for a new Age, an Age without the gods.

_To be continued. . ._

**Sorry it was so short.**

**Thanks, Daughter of Poseidon for making me feel so much better.**

**Come on, let's get those one hundred reviews!**


	28. Charmspeak

**It's short. I know. Just shut up and read.**

_In Between Our Lies_

_28. Charmspeak_

She was supposed to be the mediator, the unprejudiced one who showed both sides reason. But with her powerful gift of charmspeak – a curse that stole choices – her approval and affection was something everyone craved. It was like a drug – harmful, but you needed more, and that hunger was never satisfied. Piper was so nice, after all, that it was too hard for anyone to _not _like her, really. But they would always trip over themselves for her praise, her wise words of affection. Of love. "The Greeks are very kind – taking in all their brethren, or trying if there is no hope – as you should be, Romans." Or "Jason – Roman son of Jupiter – was as much a hero as Perseus – son of the Greek Poseidon – though Jason was trained to be more precise, more accurate. The Romans trained him well, and a fearless leader he became." And she was _such _a beauty now – a goddess in her plainness, her natural radiance – who could not help but want her praise? Even the gods themselves fell at their feet in her mercy.

She was the kind, stern mother, full of patience and guidance, and wisdom. She was no Rachel – no Annabeth, either – but Piper knew which plan was best. Or, at least, she tried. The truth lay deep down, hidden deep within her soul – Piper was as much a slave to her charmspeak as anyone else. Piper couldn't tell when she was lying, and when she wasn't – and she was the one _telling _the lies!

Piper wasn't really sure what she wanted: to be the mediator – which would have been the _good _thing – or to be normal, as normal as a halfblood could be. The latter option would have been selfish – she was needed, wasn't she? Option One was a good a choice as any, but with different consequences – others would be a _slave_ to her seemingly good gift. So, what was it she wanted?

To be normal? Or to be controlling, demanding, evil? Which was belter, which was the right choice? Maybe there wasn't one. Maybe she wanted that.

**Okay, maybe I wasn't entirely clear about the contest with prefixes and sufixes. I underlined the sufixes and prefixes, now you have to tell me which ones they are. "Hemi" is one, just to give you an example. Okay? Get it know? PM me if you just seriously are confused.**

**Did I tell you guys on Wednesday - the 27th - I finished The Lost Hero! In one day? At 12:30 at night? And I got it at - what? 1:00 in the afternoon? - yeah!**


	29. Begin Again

**Warning: Cursing. Set after The Lost Hero.**

_In Between Our Lies_

_29. Begin Again_

She had been so happy to see him. So _fucking _happy to finally see him again. And what does she get? She gets a big, hot-shot hero who can't even _respect _anyone! Honestly, she knew he'd be different at the Roman camp, but she never expected he'd be _this _different. It tore her up inside, really, because she remembered _everything _– every fucking thing – and he didn't even know her name.

"Jason!" all the campers cried, no one caring about her. Nope, it was 'Jason this' or 'Piper that' or 'Leo's super-awesome fire skills'. Nope, never her. Never the old timer who fought in a war and single-handedly saved the great Perseus Jackson; never her. It's not like she _wants _the glory – in all truth, she'd much rather just be left alone; change isn't all that great – but she does want _someone _to notice her. She wants _Percy _to notice her. So why doesn't he?

"Who is _that_?" he had snarled, obviously unaware that this was their "hero" who got lost so soon before he came. "Who is _he_?"

"Jason Grace, son of Jupiter," said Lupa, not caring if a fight arose, apparently.

"And you are really Perseus Jackson, son of the Greek Poseidon," she says.

"Yeah Perc –"

"Jason! I thought we agreed _I'd_ do the talking. You have your Romans, and I have _my _Greeks to attend to. We're here now, we can unite, and now you can leave us. Thank you for bringing me to him," she says in a cold, hard tone, because – dammit! – Percy still doesn't remember her and she's so fucking tired of it.

The camps burst into outrage. "Work together? With them? NO WAY!" "Is it really wise?" "How do we know they're not with Kronos?" "_ATTACK_!" And Percy did. He attacked her, without even a second thought.

She brought out her knife, her cursed blade – swift as lightning, no pun intended – and their blades clanged. "You still have Riptide?"

"How do you know my sword's name?" he asked no hint of pity or giving up in that face.

"Percy, I know everything about you."

"Prove it, Blondie."

"One: don't call me Blondie. Two: the name's Annabeth, your best friend. _Remember _me? And third: I'm a daughter of Athena – Roman Minerva – and I _always _have a plan.

"Your name is Perseus Jackson, son of Sally Jackson and Poseidon. You like us to call you Percy, and your favorite hero is Hercules because he had worse luck than you. You have a strand of gray hair because you held up the heavens for me in order for us to defeat Atlas. Your mother makes _every _single thing she can blue because your stepdad – who you hated with your life – said it wasn't possible." The clanging of swords, hushed silence from the campers as she poured to him his life story. A life he didn't even know he had.

"Grover – the satyr – brought you to camp when you were twelve, but before he could your mother almost died and your defeated the Minotaur without a proper weapon. You, me, and Grover retrieved Zeus' lightning bolt before the summer solstice, where we found out Hades wasn't the traitor. We found that Kronos was stirring.

"Your second year, we went to the Sea of Monsters with your half-brother, Tyson – who is a Cyclops – to retrieve Grover and the Golden Fleece. We did, and ended up having a face-off with Luke – who was my best friend, my brother, and the enemy. You won, and we fled with our lives.

"Third year: I got lost when we retrieved Nico and Bianca di Angelo. The Hunters saved you all, and Bianca became a Hunter. She died later on during the Quest to save me. You did find me – Bianca and Zoe died along the way, the Hunters – and we fought Atlas. You held the sky for me, so now we both have gray hair. Thalia – who was a daughter of Zeus and supposedly the one of the prophecy – was going to turn sixteen, and fulfill the prophecy, but became a Hunter. You earned that responsibility. Later, we found out Nico was a son of Hades – left almost immortal in the Lotus Casino.

"In your fourth year, I finally received a quest. It was what I had always wanted, but I didn't anymore. We had to search the Labyrinth to find Daedalus. We did, in the end, with a mortal Rachel Dare – now our Oracle – leading the way. We saw Kronos resurrected in Luke's body, and the Labyrinth collapsed.

"The fifth year was seemingly the worst. The year of the prophecy." Their coordinated fight had become more of a dance now; it flowed so easily between them. "You . . . You saved the world. I took a _poisoned_ knife for you, Seaweed Brain. And now you don't even remember who I am."

"_You're lying!" _Percy screamed. Annabeth was apparently behind him, and put the back of her knife – not the sharp part – into the small of his back.

"You took on the curse of Achilles to save us all." And Percy collapsed. The Roman campers rushed forward – some in too much of a shock to do anything – and started poking his body while the Apollo cabin (she assumed) was assessing the damage. "He's not dead. I didn't kill him. He'll be out for a couple of hours. Might be enough for him to get his memory back. You think, Jason?"

Jason was unaware, really, because he was trying to take this all in. "Sure, I guess."

Piper took the opportunity to use her charmspeak. "Everyone, please step away from the Greek hero, thanks. Lupa, I think if we could discuss about us working together . . . Oh, and will someone _please _get Percy back into his cabin? Don't dump him on the bed or anything; he is _our _hero, after all."

"I'll do it," she offered, because – really – she didn't trust anyone else with her Percy.

"Okay, Annabeth. Will someone show her where the Neptune cabin is?"

_..._

"You really don't remember me, do you, Seaweed Brain?" she found herself asking while he was asleep. She sighed, as if she really expected him to answer. "You don't talk in your sleep anymore, but somehow you manage to drool."

Percy stirred a little bit. "_Annabeth . . .Camp . . . Prophecy . . . Real?" _he mumbled. Annabeth took this as some sign he was back into the living, and remember her – if only a little bit. She looked out into the window, surveing the camp, and assessing how many traps could be located, and where.

"A-A-Annabeth?" Percy's eyes fluttered open. "You're real, aren't you? It wasn't a dream I had?"

"Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. "It was all real. We're real. _I'm _real. Why? Are you going to attack me again?"

"Never, Wise Girl. I'm slowly starting to remember," he slipped his hand in hers, "and if I remember correctly, _this _is allowed, right?"

"Always."

Percy leaned in to kiss her, "Great."

"Even when you have amnesia you're still a Seaweed Brain."

"My back still hurts, by the way."

* * *

**It didn't turn out the way I thought it would. Oh well. I liked when they were all arguing at the begining.**

**Everyone seemed too lazy to do the challenge. Oh well.**


	30. Lust, love?

This is an AU...Unless you like the whole "forbidden love" thing.

**This is to all the Thalia/Percy lovers, to whome I haven't given enough lovin'.**

_

* * *

_

In Between Our Lies

_30. Lust? Love?_

Fire and ice. Light and dark. Lightning and water. Polar opposites. So, how did they manage to fit perfectly together, again?

The Lotus Casino, a beautiful splendor in which they could be free. Free of guilt. Free of humiliation. No more secret meetings. No more hushed kisses. No more hiding behind Annabeth's back about this _relationship _shit, either. The happiness overwhelmed the sadness, but they walked a thin line between both. There was no more prophecy, no more time, shouldn't they be happy? Why did the weight of the world overcome him?

Her lips felt cold and hard. Dangerous and beautiful like a poisonous flower were her kisses. Lust, shame, guilt; he could feel all the warped emotions. "Annabeth . . ." he whispers, not calling her, but saying it's the reason they should stop.

"Is with Luke, and Artemis set me free. Just shut up and kiss me, Jackson," she growls ferociously. He succumbs to her – partly because he knows it's true, partly because he's wanted this so long. The forbidden had always called him, just like Thalia was now. He couldn't waste time feeling shameful anymore.

The Lotus Casino was really messed up in the sense of time. They could kiss for what seemed like hours, without ever getting hungry, never needing a pause for the restroom or some other mundane human need. Did time _slow _here? Or was it just _them _who had a jacked up sense of time? It didn't matter. He ruined everything he was near.

Everything and anything that came in contact with him got so fucked up beyond repair. That thing – whatever the crap he had with Annabeth – he had with the beautiful Athena girl was now ruined. His friendship with Nico got fucked up when he ran away with Thalia – yippee. Even Grover – his best friend Grover the mighty satyr – hated him. The only person he had left was Thalia. And even now – after he _ran away _with her – she was beginning to question his undying love for her. After he fucking ran away with her when he could've stayed with Annabeth.

So what if his emotions were all fucking messed up inside his damn ADHD head? This crappy love triangle between them – Thalia, Annabeth, and himself – well, it _had _to end. And it had to fucking end _now_. So who would he choose? Thalia: brave, forbidden Thalia? Or Annabeth? Best friend Annabeth, smart and kind Annabeth.

Wait – didn't he already _choose_ Thalia? He ran away with her, didn't he? So, yeah, he was pretty damn sure he _did _choose Thalia. So why didn't she think so? Why was she questioning _this_?

Was there no justice? Was there no fucking loyalty?

* * *

"I _want _to," she says, so desperate and pleading he thinks she's true.

"You really want to have _sex _with me, Thalia?" he asks, because he wants to know if that's _really _what she's asking. Because he doesn't want to be a pity-date or some plaything she clings to whenever Luke or Nico is kissing some other slut.

"Yeah, I really do."

"What happened to all that 'no sex before marriage' shindig? What happened to your 'true love' crap you were telling me about? You have your ways, Thals, and I have mine. It's okay. You don't have to change for me."

"But I _want _to," she insists.

"This isn't you! What has the Casino done to you?" he asks in disbelief. Because this girl in front of him – this wild little animal – isn't the Thalia he's come to love after (how long has it been? Three years?) his time in the Casino.

"It's not the Casino, Jackson! I _want _this. I really want this," she claims.

"No, this _isn't _you, Thalia."

"Yes, it is!" She stomps her foot impatiently.

"Oh Zeus, you're drunk, aren't you?"

"Nope." That's when she pukes.

* * *

"I really got drunk, didn't I?" she asks him.

"Yeah," he answers, "you really did."

"Wow. Was I some crazy-ass bitch?"

"You sure as hell were, Thals," he says, and she laughs. He loves her damn laugh – when she finally looks carefree and happy and not fucking scarred for life because of Luke and Nico and everyone who ever left her.

* * *

The first time they have sex, it's magical. They really were young – if you can count not-aging in a Casino _young _– and in love. If you ran away with someone, it's a guaranteed bonus. Thalia ran away with Luke – little fucking bastard-child, he was – and she fell in love with him. Now Percy ran away with Thalia, and he fell in love with her. And so the cycle repeats.

He _wants _Thalia to be _his_. He may be young, naïve and stupid, but he knows what he wants. He sure as hell wants Thalia to be his and his alone. He wants to marry her, to live with her, to – dammit – have fucking kids with her. He wants the perfect life that's so out of reach.

It's too bad he's never going to get it.

But he has his Thalia – and she is _his _Thalia – forever, because they sure as hell were high enough so that they would forget all thoughts of leaving, anyways. He can hold her without the guilt, without the pain, without betraying anyone's trust, because they're alone. He's got the powerful, wonderful Thalia all to himself, and nothing's gonna make him share.

He loves her, and she loves him. They can be together forever.

* * *

**I had this cool Greek letter instead of the breaks...Dammit, fanfiction! Quit jacking around with my cool Greek signs! Ekat! (it means 'crap')**

**Sorry to all the Percy/Thalia lovers if this wasn't up to your standards...Can't please everyone; I'm not Jesus or anything.**


	31. Powerless

_In Between Our Lies_

_31. Powerless_

He's not Percy Jackson. He doesn't have those good swimmer looks, and he certainly isn't Chiron's favorite camper. Sure, he wasn't what a good son of Hermes was supposed to be; he was different. And _different _certainly was not allowed here.

He didn't want to go down in history forgotten – just another of daddy's kiddies; a friend of the lost hero, Thalia. He wanted to be remembered for something that set him apart from everyone else – and boy did it.

Here he was: hero-in-training, then traitor, then ultimately Kronos; turned hero again. Boy that was one for the books, wasn't it?

His background was a story in itself. Crazy mother who tried to be an oracle, and an extremely busy god for a father; talk about parenthood. So he said _to hell with it_ and just ran away. Fell in love with the rouge daughter of Zeus, yada yada yada; "the rest was history." He didn't want _pity_ when his love died; he wanted _justice_.

But who really got the justice? Who _deserved_ the justice? It seems sort of unfair for him to die, right when Gaea starts wakening. He feels it first – all the dead feel it first – but they are unable to tell Hades because of the Forbidden Laws; just because they're 'heroes' doesn't mean they can mess with time and destiny and _fate_. If he _was_ a hero, why couldn't they let him live? He would have been a decent fighter, really – he could have killed a good amount of Gaea's agents, maybe even a giant or two before he died.

The others are oblivious to what is going on – he wonders how they can live their happy lives, laughing, singing, while Gaea plots her revenge. Of course they know nothing – how could they? The Olympians separated themselves – stupid Zeus, Jupiter, whichever – so how would they get the information? How would they know something was wrong? They don't, which is _exactly _what Gaea wants.

_It's so stupid_, he thinks, _the gods locking themselves up, and hiding away like cowards. I did _not _die for them to be foolish and arrogant, trying to ignore the problem at hand. _Really, who did they think they were? Gods, surely, but not all-powerful and mighty – they cannot live if Gaea wins.

And the dead cannot help at all. _He _cannot help because Hades – or whatever Roman deity he is – will not grant him a new life; a new body; a new chance to be good; the fresh start he needs. Putting himself out of action means halting all spirits in the Elysium from being resurrected again. Nico may be powerful, but he _isn't _his father.

He's so damn powerless right now – and if there's one thing he hates besides being _stupid_, it's being the powerless person who's watching on the sidelines. He doesn't want more _killing _– he's done with it. No more heroes should die because he was _stupid _enough to accept Kronos into his life. Really? Why should they be punished – the heroes, the warriors?

He should pay. He should rot in the pits of Tartarus, because it's better than seeing all his friends _die_ for the gods again. He should go to hell, because it's better than being powerless and weak.

**I'm running out of ideas, folks. I could go on endlessly with this series - no joke - but some reviews and ideas are greatly appreciated, thanks.**

**Also, did anyone ELSE get all A's? I did! Now my parents want to celebrate, and this past Thursday - when I got my report card - my mom gave me The Lost Hero. Of course, I've read it already - I don't want to bust their bubble - but now I don't have to spend my money on it! And I get a certain amount of money for each A - which they haven't decided on yet, apparently. So . . . I'm really happy!**

**Now if only I could find my Red Cross CD with the job application form on it so I could get some little kids to babysit...**

**REVIEW! YOU CAN REVIEW ABOUT HOW CATS ARE STUPID, I DON'T CARE, JUST REVIEW!**

**OR GO CLIMB A DAMN TREE!**


	32. Failure

_In Between Our Lies_

_32. Failure _

Everyone keeps saying she's really important. Really? As she hangs out with her dad, she doesn't feel too important at all. In fact, she feels almost . . . _normal_ – there's a rush of relief, thinking that she can be a little 'normal' once in a blue moon. That relief always manages to fade, somehow, slowly slipping away – replaced by fear and guilt and sometimes _adrenaline_. The serene feeling of hope can never last too long, this Piper knows all too well.

"You determine everything," they say. But she doesn't _want _to! So what if she can charmspeak? Drew can, can't she? Give her the burden! Is it because Drew isn't _powerful _enough, is it because she'll _fail_? Hah! Drew, failing! The idea is so odd to Piper; she can't help but be struck from the thought of it. Drew loved feeling the power, liked controlling people, so how could she fail? It wasn't in her nature – but Piper . . . Piper was used to failure, and she knew the demon almost better than she knew herself.

She had failed her father too many times to count: she had failed so he could take notice of her – and that never lasted too long – she was so _close _at rescuing him – and almost failed – and she was supposed to be his daughter – his one _and only_, his special little girl – and she failed at that, too. Daughters were supposed to be around – they were supposed to give gifts and be charming and witty and take after their mother's but be like their fathers. She wasn't a good daughter; she knew that to be true – why else would he only ask three questions for a conversation? When was the last time she ever had a _real _conversation with him? It didn't matter that he was some _famous _actor; she had failed him.

She failed all her friends – Jason, Leo, Annabeth, Rachel; so many others. She was supposed to be on _their _side – she was _not _supposed to be a traitor! She was like Luke, wasn't she? Except she wasn't a hero, she was a coward. She betrayed her friends – was nearly responsible for their deaths – all because she wanted her father to take notice of her! The father who barely – who probably – didn't even want her, anyways!

She failed Jason when she tried to save them from the Cyclops. She had used her charmspeak and it _failed_. The mother wasn't fooled – because she wasn't _strong _enough – and they had almost become dinner. It was Leo who saved them – but it was Piper who got them into that stupid mess in the first place! But it's kind of okay for that little failure, because Leo got to play hero – and she got to learn the cruelty of failure once more.

How is she supposed to convince some other camp – some other camp with ninja-moves and butt-kicking skills – that they are _supposed _to work together and go to Greece? How is she supposed to convince them if her stupid _gift_ didn't even work on a stupid, dim-minded Cyclops? If they keep bickering amongst themselves, how can she convince the Roman Camp that they were meant to work together – for Greece and Rome to unite? Apparently, this whole thing rests on _her _shoulders – _she's _the important one here, the one the Fates decided is big enough to handle all this stupid responsibility – but she is so _unsure _of herself. Can she really do it?

She's just going to be another big failure, she's sure. Because that's what she's best at: failing.

**_Sorry if this feels like it's repeating. Our internet is wack so I'm using my mom's labtop - and all my documents are on the home computer. Joy._**

**_Anyways, I'm feeling kind of neglected here, people. Only, like, three or four or five reviews per chapter? And that's only my regulars? You're killing me here, people, which is bad for you 'cause who the heck will update?_**

**_REVIEW, OR I WILL NOT UPDATE! (which might be a little extreme, but people - my regulars - always review, so it's cool)_**


	33. Four Stages of Life

_In Between Our Lies_

_33. Four Stages of Life_

First Stage - Innocence

Nico used to be bright, happy, buoyant – a little sun in his childlike simplicity. He was the loving little boy you couldn't help but be fond of, and were very envious of because he always, _always_ saw the bright side of everything. He loved Mythomagic and all of Greek mythology. He loved his sister – even though she was his only family, he wasn't sad – and he was with her, so it didn't matter that they moved a lot or that their past was a puzzle. Who needed to know your past, anyways? It's okay, because he was loving and carefree and cared only for the present.

Second Stage – Antipathy

All that changed when Bianca died. Bianca – who had been with him forever and never stopped taking care of him – was gone. He became bitter, angry, _resentful_. No longer was he the boy who radiated contentment – he was dark, broadened, and had an aura of despair and hate. All he wanted was Bianca back – such a seemingly innocent request – and there would be _nothing _to stop him.

Stage Three – Insight

He's sorry it took him all that happened during the time frame of the Labyrinth for him to realize Bianca wasn't coming back. The time for Bianca di Angelo on Earth was over, he knew now. He developed a new _awareness_ over the dead – no one can come back if the Fates do not allow it, and the dead should not be messed with in battle. In a sense he became wiser, and he no longer hated the world – only the rules it was governed by.

Stage Four – Perfect Façade

And when Thalia got kicked out of the Hunt – for reasons she _still_ hasn't told him – he entered Stage Four: the last, and maybe even the best. Sure, his life had its ups and downs – he lost Bianca, he found out his past, and he saw a memory of his mother among other things – but in the end, things might've turned out for the best. He _is _happy now – with three kids and a dog – so who's to say his life didn't turn out right, in the end? He's kind of glad his life had that sad moment, because that turned happy – it is terribly ironic for him to go back to his optimistic ways; you just can't see a son of _Hades _being like that.

His wife – now Thalia _di Angelo_ – was happy with him, and his seemingly perfect life is even more joyful with her around to cheer him – and to degrade him, in a loving way. Still, there is that echo of a horrid past life that still haunts him – and he wonders if he will ever go back to that life, but he puts on a façade and plays his exultant position as Nico di Angelo.

_His _three children: Bianca – as if he needs something to remind him more of his sister! – is the oldest; Daymon, being in the middle; and Bryony, who is the youngest and very pretty with her middle-length, layered, black hair. They are blissful in their youth, and happy, too. Bianca – who didn't take after her namesake much – was undoubtedly the smartest, and this wasn't because of her age. She had once quoted that, "It was all about perfection. My mother and father presented a perfect picture to the world, a happy, witty and charming young couple who were madly in love, and did nothing but have fun." In all truth, Bianca was correct.

But just because their life wasn't full of perfection – though their façade made it seem so; you couldn't have the neighbors knocking on your door with complaints of _another _hellhound keeping them up, can you? – Nico thinks it is okay, once in a while. He's happy with this life – this settled down life with three kids and Thalia right by his side _"through sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live"_. It's alright that even they have their ups and downs – even though they present a perfect picture.

**Thanks to GoddessofNature11 for reviewing EVERY SINGLE one of my freaking stories today - and yesterday, too! Thanks to aleki98, too, but she should know that. Also, thanks to all the reviewers who reviewed last chapter! I would say who, but, this needs to be posted so I can shower - the 'rents are complaining.**

** So, REVIEW! FOR ALL THE CLEAN PEOPLE OF THE WORLD!**

** OR DIE DIRTY!**


	34. Lonely

**In honor of all the spouses and children - including me - of military (active or non) soldiers. We are thankful for your sacrifices. I know it's hard.**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_34. Lonely _

You wait. You sit and watch television and tell yourself everything is going to be okay. You look at the innocent little girl asleep, head resting in your lap, and you tell yourself _he's going to come back. He has to. For her, because she needs a father and she's going to have one._

You don't think about war at camp and bloody, violent thoughts that might just bring more pain, because he _promised _he'd come back. After everything they'd been through, you know you're not going to lose Percy Jackson – _Perseus damn Jackson _– to a stupid mortal war. He's fought giants, ridden hellhounds, and managed the courage to kiss _you_, so you know he's coming back. He just has to, because he promised and you have two children now and he just can't get away from you that easy.

Sometimes you lose all hope and think everything's lost, but it's the little ones that keep your heart going strong, because you have to be strong and mighty and not afraid – for them. Because you're their mother and you promised your husband nothing bad would happen to them. You promised, and he promised, and you're going to keep your side of the bargain because he sure as hell better keep his.

His time to come back is quickly approaching – soon, so soon, that you barely have time to prepare for it. He doesn't want it to be anything special – he's just coming back for two weeks, gods! – but you know how much this means to him and you are _not _going to let him come home to a mess of a house. He would think you couldn't handle it, but you know that he knows better than that.

So you cook a big feast – turkey, ham, but no fish, because he hates fish even though you love it – and try to get the kids – who are five and two now, too young and too innocent – to help clean up the house, and it's a pain. But it's worth it because everything looks perfect for him. He may only be coming back for two weeks – which is longer than you expected, and you're so happy – but you're not going to let him out of your sight.

You pick him up from the airport – even though he _insists _on taking a taxi – and it's like time just stops. You're only aware of your family – your two children and him – and everything else is slowly, steadily, slipping away. There is just this moment, just this present, and nothing can ruin it. He is yours, you are his, and there is no war and no military and everything is so fucking _great_.

But you can't escape reality for long. You get his things, and he insists on driving – even though he looks so tired because he probably didn't sleep on the plane because, hello, he's a fucking son of _Poseidon _and not Zeus – and you're glad, almost. Your children – his children, too – finally have their father back, even if it's only for a little while.

The kids take two weeks off of school – the teachers are kind, saying that there will be no homework for them and that their glad your husband is in the fucking _military_. Maybe it's because their glad that their husbands aren't and they have no one to worry about in their safe, secluded life. But you think nothing of it as you storm out of that stupid school.

Your husband's time with you has come and gone – too fast, too immediate – and you all but chain him to a chair so that he can't go. You're a daughter of Athena and you can certainly find _ways _to make him stay, but you don't because you don't want to get your family in trouble. You must repeat the cycle again – worrying, waiting, and being cautious of how you word things to your children.

Anger, sadness, loss – you get these random feelings, and just know. You're pregnant with his _third _child – you know it's stupid and childish but you don't _want _another kid. What if this one never gets to see the dad? You can't allow this to happen _again_.

He's born – the little boy, the little angel – and you just _know _Artemis is helping you through this. Because she's always had a soft spot for Percy – not so much that she liked him, but she was fond of him – and she's always wanted you to join the Hunt. What if you had? It brings a new round of tears, fresh and salty.

The days turn to weeks. The weeks to months – time stretches in a vast pool around you. Was there no end? Would he ever be coming back to you? You can't even think of life without him – that's why you took the poisoned knife, right? – so what if you can never see him during his final moments? Terror runs through you – _no_, you _cannot _think of this any longer. He would come back because he promised, and he keeps his promises.

You've told him that you bore him another child – a boy – in your letters, and he replies with meaningless, _that's good _or _just another mouth to feed, eh? _And you wonder if he's really happy for you or if he's mad because he hasn't gotten to see this one yet. That just makes the wait longer, and work is _unbearable_.

You always wonder _what if they hold him back another two months? A year, even? How will I survive – the children? _And you can't bear the thought of that so you let your mind stray because you need pleasant thoughts – or at least a distraction – from all of this every once in a while. It's a wonder you don't turn to liquor – and the only reason is because you have _children _who need you – and are glad you aren't in an insane asylum yet, because your kids would never remember _both _their parents.

Somehow you manage to survive the terrifying days – the agonizing nightmares, the children's happy aura, the stress of work and bills and not having your husband there. And soon enough Percy is back – coming in the same airport, driving the same car, wearing the same smile. You're happy, because he's back and nothing can take that joy away from you.

You're never going to let him go back into war again.

* * *

**Sorry. Yesterday was Veteran's Day and I was happy to have the day off of school. I know I so shouldn't care - well, maybe I should - but I'm glad my family is appreciated. I have - off the top of my head - fourteen people in my family in the military. Including both my parents. BOTH, people.**

**It just really sucks when they go off to war. There is no feeling in the world like that.**


	35. Undecided

_In Between Our Lies_

_35. Undecided_

Piper McLean: the pretty, bubbly daughter of Aphrodite who though he was her boyfriend. The girl he wasn't supposed to – that he knew – but he was slowly falling for her anyways. Ever since he had woken up – memory gone, head fuzzy – he felt a sort of special _connection _to her. Was it the kind that lovers felt? Jason didn't know, but that sounded cheesy. She could charmspeak, was supposedly one of the _seven_, and was with him every step of the way – even the quest that would've gotten her killed. Piper had the most beautiful eyes that changed color at will, and choppy, brown hair. Whether she knew or not, she was slowly capturing his heart.

Reyna whatever-her-last-name-was: witty, sarcastic daughter of _Mars_ with medium black hair. This was the girl he was slowly remembering good times with – sparring, training . . . and kissing? Was there kissing associated with this girl? Was Reyna his girlfriend, the supposed girl he left behind? Was she his Annabeth, unwilling to give up, to succumb to any thought – even though everyone else believed it to be true – that he was dead?

Did he love her?

_Piper, Reyna, Piper_

_. . ._

She was _Greek_. He was _Roman_. These two things were _not _supposed to mix – everyone kept telling him that, and he believed them – but why in _Olympus _did he feel something for her? Why on earth does he want so badly for the memories – the memories that were just _so, so _fake – to be real? These doubts, these feelings stirring inside him, was it a result of Hera's impulsiveness? Or was it because, in the end, they were really supposed to be together? Like Percy and Annabeth, who in the beginning were best friends, but were so irrevocably in love with each other? Jason thinks that if it were actually _Annabeth _who had been taken, she would've almost fully remembered Percy. She never would've stopped loving Percy – even with all the distractions and all of the people and intensity and all of the _knowledge._ She loved him too much to let her Athena get the better of her.

But, he wasn't a child of Athena – or Minerva, rather – so it didn't matter, anyways. He didn't know everything in the world – in fact, more often than not; he would always improvise whenever people looked at him to be a _leader_. So this . . . this turmoil inside of him could _not _be dealt with until he was _sure_. The stakes are so high – so, _so _high – and he can't be sure of anything anymore. For all he knows, Piper is a traitor. For all he knows, Piper was brainwashed, too.

_No_, he tells himself. He could not afford to let Gaea breathe evil thoughts into him. He _would not _allow it. Piper was good and whole and _pure_. She didn't kill anyone during a war – she didn't kill anyone, not directly. Indirectly, maybe, but she didn't kill her _family_. She's innocent.

_Piper, Reyna, Piper_

_. . ._

Reyna, however, is the exact _opposite_ of Piper. Her long black hair is always in a ponytail – she doesn't care about looks, and anyways, her hair gets in the way when she trains. She's Roman; Piper's Greek. He's known Reyna _forever_, and how long has he known Piper? A month? Not even?

A blazing inferno; a fire kindled with anger and a desire to _please _– or intimidate, because she does that, too – everyone she meets. A Roman daughter of Mars – which is Ares, he has to remind himself – she has no limits. She has killed endless demigods – he knows they were traitors, but he can't help but think how _wrong _it is. If Reyna was brainwashed, there would be no end to her killing.

But Reyna had her moments – he couldn't name exact places or times yet, which was killing him – but Reyna certainly had her moments. She could be kind, caring, sweet, even. Behind that mask of fury and resentment and determination, there was a face of a gentle person who would give her life to save the ones she loved. That's who Clarisse reminded him of, Reyna.

Reyna had her bad moments, but she had her good, too. Jason got to see the side of this daughter of Mars – this fearless, friendless girl who was a leader and did _nothing _but train – and she was _very _different in retrospect.

_Reyna, Piper, Reyna_

_. . ._

"Come on, Jason!" Piper called out to him, motioning him forward. Jason smiled inwardly to himself – no, smiling was too inadequate a word; he was _grinning stupidly_.

"Alright!" he called, and laughed, because the situation was so ridiculous. Really, a picnic on the beach? With all the sand blowing at you? Still, with Piper there, he could have been in Antarctica for all he cared. He could have been fighting to the death for all that it mattered.

Piper – the word sounded funny. It conjured up another word . . . another name . . . It was there, but he couldn't quite grasp it. Maybe it was important. Jason looked back over at Piper. Oh well, and the thought slipped from his mind as quickly as it had come. He did not think of it anymore until the arrival of the other girl; until going to the other camp. His home; the place he was raised.

. . .

"What's wrong?" she asks innocently, "the movie too scary for you?"

"No," he answers, "just thinking." And he was thinking – okay, maybe that clown was a _little _creepy – but he had a lot on his mind.

"Don't worry," she whispers back, "I'll protect you from the big, bad clowns." He laughs, and other people shush them or tell them – rudely – to shut up. He could have zapped them – he wasn't impulsive enough to do so – but he was with Piper, and the serenity stayed with him.

"Okay, Pipes. Just don't wear those big red noses, okay?" He shudders, and she kisses him lightly on the cheek. He stares into her eyes – not a deep stare or anything, but it was a sort of communication between them – and kisses her on the lips.

They make out for the rest of the movie.

You know what? Sometimes going to the movies with a film about freaky clowns isn't so bad after all.

_Piper, Reyna, Piper _

_. . ._

"Come on, Grace!" she snarls at him. "You're sloppy! You would've been dead before you could even pick up a sword!" He knows she's just pestering him – trying to get him to try harder – and he was here before her, but he can't help but be sad that he's disappointed her. He doesn't know how to please her any other way than to defeat her, but she likes being the queen of sword fighting, so he doesn't do anything.

He analyzes. She sneers and tries to jab at him. He analyzes, and she tries to harass him into making some unwanted move. The cycle continues, unending, and they try not to tire out.

Jason steps forward, using some style – he doesn't know where it came from, it was just there – to fling the sword out of her hand. She is defenseless. "Okay, Grace," she admits irritably, "you got me." Her tone turns honey-sweet as she steps forward, "You win." She leans her head in _so close_ and he's about to lean in, too, when he feels it.

Her blade at the small point of his back – it's just resting there, ever so lightly, but he can feel it anyways. Crap. In the whole heat of the moment, he had _forgotten _to disarm her of that stupid _dagger_. He was being so careless – even now, she took his sword and has it against his neck. She's behind him –he admits, she moves lightning quick – and he is weaponless.

"Okay, you win, Reyna. Can I get some water now?" he asks.

"I always win," she whispers in his ear, but lets him go anyways.

He gets water, and she's gone, leaving his sword behind. And a note that read:

_I always win, Grace. Meet you again tomorrow, same time? – Reyna_

Yes, he thinks to himself, before going to wash up.

This was the start of their relationship.

_Reyna, Piper, Reyna_

_. . ._

Who will he choose?

**Sorry about that whole 'no update' thing. My bad. I was trying to finish this, and was fresh out of ideas until I started typing.**

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**REVIEW! GET ME TO 150, GUYS! OR I WILL GO TAKE MY ROMANS, AND BEAT YOU!**


	36. From Annabeth

_In Between Our Lies_

_36. From Annabeth, with love_

_

* * *

_

_Dear Fredrick,_

I'm running away. I know I'm only seven – too smart, you say – and you think I can't survive. 'She's too young!' you say. Don't worry, the big, bad monsters won't get me, okay? Tell Susan your new kid can have my room. Don't alert the police, please – you'll just make it that much harder, and we both know they won't find me. As if those monsters aren't enough! Even if they do – which they won't – I'll just runaway again. We don't want that, do we? Things are bad as is.

I'm going to that place you were talking about – that safe haven, that camp. I heard you and Susan talk about sending me off. We have our differences, that witch, and me but maybe she'll be good for you.

Fine, you can go celebrate with Susan now. I know you won't miss me, which is okay.

- Annabeth Chase

* * *

_Dear Fredrick,_

I know things are a little tense between us – you and me and the stepfamily – and I know you've wanted me gone when I was little. I'm sorry I was a mistake. I'm ready for a second chance, if you are. Susan can deal with it – I know how to fight monsters now, her precious little children won't get hurt again.

I'm not the girl who ran away with a trash can lid. I can teach you guys more about my life – the monsters, the camp, the gods, and the people. We can be a family again – more or less. That is, if you want.

If you say yes, I'll Iris message you the time and place. If not, well, you're a smart man. You can figure out the rest.

- Annabeth Chase

* * *

_Dear Dad,_

I'm sorry about getting kidnapped and ultimatley trapped on a mountain. I was so stupid! But that fighting you did out there – that was awesome.

Anyways, you know Percy – the guy that saved me? Well, we made it safely to camp, more or less in one piece. We survived that monster attack I IM'd you about – obviously.

The war we talked about – it's getting worse. I don't want anyone to know, but I feel scared, Dad. Something about Luke . . . he's not well. He would never have posioned Thalia's tree! He . . . he's _really _not well. He wanted me to join him – he got to me over the summer – and I said no. Do you think that was the right choice?

I hope Susan and the kids are okay – not attacked by any monsters while I was gone, I hope. Oh, gods, if they were . . .

You know, I miss you. You know that right? I just wanted you to know, because . . . if this war ends badly . . . Well, I love you, Dad.

Love, Annabeth

* * *

_Dear Dad_,

Mom sends her love – well, not her love, but rather her thanks. She's glad you kept me alive, after all these years. We've won the war – I'm not sure if you could tell, I've been too busy fighting.

I protected Percy – I defended him from a poisioned knife, which was stupid of me. He's invunerable now, but I'll spare you all the gory details. I can't wait to visit – now that we get along, and that the war is over.

Olympus was destroyed, and I get to rebuild it. I'm not going to be able to visit you for the school year. I'm sorry, Dad. I really wanted to, but . . . Well, Mom gave me this task herself, and I've always wanted . . .

Iris Message me as soon as you can, all right? I left some drachmas by your desk, on the table. Give Susan and Bobby and Matthew my love. I'll miss them, too. Even Susan. I love you all.

Love, Annabeth

* * *

_Dad,_

Percy is gone.

* * *

**So, I know this probably seemed bad, and not very thought out. I know you're all dying for a certain couple. (by the way, VOTE ON THE POLL) and I'm really sorry about that.**

**As you all know, I won't do the same pair two times in a row, so it might be a couple chapters before you see any Jason/Piper again. As for the Chris/Clarisse thing, I'll work on it.**

**LOVE YOU GUYS! THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS!**


	37. Greek

_In Between Our Lies_

_37. Greek_

"You . . . You're the girl from my dreams," he starmers – even though she wears the mask of indifference and strength, he can't help but stammer. He tries not to – because that makes him sound like a _kid_, and he is _so _not a kid anymore.

The blonde-haired princess nods at him, and he blushes. He knows her – he _definatley _knows her, so why can't he remember her fucking _name_? Out of all the things he _has _to forget, he forgets her _name!_ "You . . . dreamt about me?" her voice comes out hollow and broken, even though her facial expression says otherwise. She seems genuinley shocked – even if she was, her hard face didn't show.

"Yes," he replies, trying to sound indifferent, "is that not normal?" He is aware of other people coming from where the grey-eyed stranger came from, but it feels like only _them – _it is as if they are the only two people in the _world_. No amount of godly forces could break their bond – Saturn could try if he wished!

The girl only sighs, as if this is more than she dared hoped for, but still not enough. "Damn Hera," she mutters under her teeth.

He can almost feel something come up – a memory resurfacing, but something is clouding it, blocking it. "Goddess of marriage?" He doesn't know where in Hades that came from – just somewhere, he guesses – but he doesn't remember _Hera_ in his Roman Mythology studies. He didn't really remember a lot of things in that class, though – everything just became so fumbled in his head, mixing with other names that dissapeared as quickly as they came. The only one he didn't have trouble with was Apollo, the god of the sun and music.

"You would know her as Juno, but yes," the blonde girl says, and Percy just thinks that he really needs to know her name, because he can't keep calling the blonde girl "blonde girl" all the time.

That's when everyone comes – the whole camp, and the strangers from their magical whatever the heck they flew on. "Who are you?" Reyna asks the stragers.

A boy comes up – there is a gasp from _his _side – and he says, "We are from the Greek equivalent of this camp, Camp Half-Blood. I know each and every one of you – aside from the newer ones – Romans, so you _must _trust me. Your cooperation is _crucial_. I will let my Greek second-in-command take over."

The blonde rolls her eyes. "Ugh. Even when Percy is knocked out and full of amnesia I'm someone's second-in-command."

He can't help it. He just blurts it out, "How do you know my _name_? I can't even remember yours."

"All in due time," says some voice in his head – he assumes it's his father – so he just sits and listens like a good little demigod.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "continue on."

"As I was saying before Percy interupted," she smiles at him, so he thinks she doesn't mind that much, "Jason was your leader before, correct?" She pauses, and Reyna answers yes. "Well, Percy here was our leader. He was—"

Someone cuts her off, "Just get on with it, blonde!"

She growls back, "My name is _Annabeth_." And the look on her eyes is so furious Percy wouldn't have dared try to cross her – she was a tiger. Annabeth – he's glad to have a name for her – explains everything to the best of her abilities.

The other boy steps back up, "Do you see why we need your help?"

Reyna nods willingly, "Yes, Jason. We wondered why you dissapeared, and now we know it is Juno's doing."

"Juno's and Hera's," he finally speaks up. Everyone looks at him, confused, except for Annabeth. "Well . . . if Juno and Hera are almost the same person, then it was Juno _and _Hera who took away our memories, right?"

Annabeth nods, almost approvingly. "He is right, for once." She turns away. "I will leave, then. I want to find out more about this place, anyways? Percy?" She looks straight at him, gaze tearing into his.

"Um, sure."

-…-

"Um . . . and right here is the Minerva cabin . . ."

Annabeth swivels around to look. "Hm, this is my mother's cabin. Do you think I could go in?"

"Sure," he says, even though he's not entirely sure. "Have at it."

-…-

"What's your, um, relation to Annabeth?" he finds himself saying to a girl with choppy brown hair – whose name he finds out later is Piper.

"Oh, she brought us to camp. Me and Jason and Leo – he's the guy back at the chariot."

"Oh . . ." he trails off, not knowing what to say, and the girl seems ill at ease.

"You want to know more about her, don't you?" the girl asks.

The straightforward, "yes" comes out all too quickly for Percy's taste.

She stares at him oddly, as if deciding something. "Well, I don't know much about your relationship. I do know that you were best friends, and _shereallyreallylovesyou."_

He just stares at her, because he _doesn't _get it. She loves him? Annabeth loves Percy? "Well, you know . . . she's, um, your girlfriend . . ."

Girlfriend. He has a girlfriend. And that girl is Annabeth . . . Chase. That girl is Annabeth Chase. In spite of everything that has happened, he smiles.

* * *

**Sorry. Another Percy/Annabeth reunion. I do admit this was kind of a filler. I was working on a Silena/Beckendorf one and that Clarisse/Chris . . . And I'm not done and this just came to me. Expect some more of these - maybe.**

**I will totally update a lot during Thanksgiving break - if I don't fall asleep because of the turkey . . .**

**VOTE ON THE POLL!**


	38. Understanding

_In Between Our Lies_

_38. Understanding_

"What I don't get, though, is how they could live _this _long without getting killed, what with them being part of the 'seven' and all that. How did they _not _get eaten alive?"

"Well, you have to remember that their parents are still minor gods – not minor, but not major like the Big Three . . ."

"But if the world is on their shoulders . . ."

"Well," Chiron says to her, "if the world is on their shoulders, than they should be able to fight off any monsters they encounter, child." She stops asking questions after that.

* * *

**Don't fuss because this is short. It is short because it is a drabble, okay?**

**VOTE ON THE POLL! PLEASE!**


	39. Broken

_In Between Our Lies_

_39. Broken_

"Then I know Prim is right, that Snow cannot afford to waste Peeta's life,

especially now,

while the Mockingjay causes so much havoc

. . .

Peeta's all he has left.

'So, what do you think they'll do to him?'

I ask.

Prim sounds about a thousand years old when she speaks.

'Whatever it takes to break you.' "

- _Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins_

This is the last straw, they have finally broken you. You know you're strong, but this is _it._ If you ever felt threatened before, it's over now. You are going to avenge Charles Beckendorf – because he promised he'd come back, and he didn't, because he is now dead.

You pretend everything is okay. You cry, you lie, and under your broken sobs, you plan. You still lie to everyone – about you not being the _traitor_. You still tell Luke – Kronos - camp's plans. You still go to the war council, because it's your _duty_. Charlie would've wanted this for you.

He would've wanted you to live, during the war, and after it. He would've commanded it of you, had he been here.

But you were never good at following orders – even Charlie's orders. So what do you do? You go ahead, and tell Kronos what you're supposed to. You keep on being a "good" little daughter of Aphrodite, because lying is what you do best. Because you a fraud and a cheat and you're disgusted with yourself.

"Is this all?" his voice asks, commanding and demanding all at once – no longer patient and kind, because _everything_ is at stake now.

"Yes," you answer, and grin wickedly, because they don't know what you're going to do. They don't know that you'll—

"Silena!" a voice calls and you look back, alarmed. It was only Clarisse.

. . .

The drakon's poison feels _so, so_ fucking _good_. Not because it's pleasant – if anything, it's the worst feeling in the world – but you smile anyways because this can be nothing compared to how many lives you took. You might've killed them indirectly, but you killed them all the same. _So many people . . ._

You always said that if you died, your face would stay beautiful. That was before – when you were greedy and selfish and stupid. That was before – when you were vain and arrogant and oh so preppy – everything changed. Before Charlie. Before Luke. Before Clarisse and the war and everything. Back and back and back.

But it's okay, because as the drakon spits that foul poison, you know it's okay. This spit – this one flaw of yours – shows that you died for the cause.

They may break your spirit, they may break your bones and your heart, but they cannot break your actions.

* * *

**Okay, I know I haven't done this in a while so . . . Special thanks to my reviewers: filmyfurry, BookLover223, .Girl, and my anonymous reviewers - who have yet to be determined if they will be regulars.**

**And a SPECIAL SPECIAL thanks to my regulars: aleki98, BlackAmethyst123, SparksFly97, justagirlwithideas, and AHumanRobot **

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	40. Complicated

_In Between Our Lies_

_40. Complicated _

Chris and Clarisse were never a _normal_ couple, and they certainly weren't made for each other like two certain heroes. Chris didn't have impenetrable Styx skin, and Clarisse certainly was no one's 'Wise Girl'.

They weren't anything special, so why was everything so _confusing_?

. . .

Chris thought Clarisse was beautiful and powerful – sometimes a barbarian, he admits – but still, she was the most unique daughter of Ares he had ever known in his entire life, and Chris had known a fair few. She had even nursed him back to health – called him from insanity, into her always open arms. She was his solace now; she was his rock in the dark – whenever he wandered once more, she would be there to call him back to her. Chris also thought she would never stoop so low as to date a simple _Hermes_ boy. She could've gotten a wrestler or an Olympic – the games, not the gods – star, if she wanted. She was worthy enough.

. . .

Emotional. Bubbly. Bright, happy, sunny.

All of these things Clarisse is not. Powerful. Beautiful. Courageous. These are the things that describe Clarisse la Rue. She is strong. She is mesmerizing. She is even relatively kind. That is, if you get the privilege of actually knowing her.

Clarisse is the type of person who has one set of friends – she is loyal and good to have on your side for defense. There is that one moment she asses you – you're lucky if you get a second glance. Chris never got a second glance. He's not even sure he got one.

* * *

Clarisse thought of Chris as simply a madman at first. Who would have been so stupid as to go into the Labyrinth – and _alone_? The Labyrinth alone was enough to make even her cower behind her show of bravado. He was a traitor, and if this is how they turned out to be – mad, lonely _cowards_ – than she would have none of it. Chris – she didn't know his name, then – could die there, but her compassion – who knew she had that? – got the better of her. She took him in, and he slowly, steadily, captured her cold heart.

. . .

Brutal. Arrogant. Indifferent.

These are words to describe something opposite of Chris. Chris is loyal. He is kind. He is the classic Hermes jokester. Chris is not something you expect Kronos trash to be like. In fact, he is the exact opposite. He is the opposite of the ideal boyfriend of Clarisse, too.

But she's never done what everyone's expected of her – there was never a _Clarisse _way to do things. If there was, she would've done the opposite of that. She was never one to follow the rules, so who was to say she could not date Chris freaking Rodriguez? No one could.

They shouldn't have been surprised when she went out with him – and stayed with him.

* * *

**Vote on the poll, PLEASE. I only have eight people who voted. EIGHT. So, take fifteen seconds out of your day, and - dammit - review already! (thanks)**


	41. Heroes

**Strongly influenced by "The Hunger Games" Trilogy - but nowadays, what isn't?**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_41. Heroes_

She gets that there is going to be some kind of "apocalypse" if they fail. She gets that it _has _to be the seven greatest of age – "greatest" meaning freaks; different or forbidden or insanely powerful. She gets that Rome and Greece – the two _greatest _civilizations in history – have to unite with the gods to win. She gets the gods have to _humble _themselves down – and she gets this is closer to an impossibility than uniting everyone is.

What she doesn't get, though, is why it has to be _them _– her and Jason and Percy.

If they are supposed to find the greatest seven, why is it them? Surely there are others – more powerful, more skilled. They've already fought at the head of their own war, why do they need _another_? Another fucking gory battle?

She gets that it's their _duty_ – to be with the soldiers, to be the leaders that everyone is desperately counting on – but this is cutting it _too_ close. Too damn close – because she's seen war, she's seen people die right before her eyes. She's seen her fucking _friends _get the life drained out of them – and she couldn't save them. She puts on this façade – this charade that somehow everyone believes; _idiots_ – and she acts like everything's fine. It's not.

She doesn't want to _know _the Romans – she doesn't want to get all fucking _buddy-buddy _with them. It's enough that she has to worry about her Greek friends – she doesn't want to see more fucking people she's close to _die_. It's too much. Sure, she wants Percy back – but this is a price a little too _damn high_. She doesn't want to watch more people she knows die.

They'll just haunt her in her dreams. They will die again and again behind her closed eyelids. The memory will repeat _again and again _– the gore, the blood, the killing. The final kiss of death is the last thing she sees, before she wakes up – never screaming, but sweaty with a fast-beating heart. They will never leave her memory.

Okay, she pretends everything's fine. She pretends she's just breaking down because Percy is gone – and she only does that every once in a while – but she's _not_. Maybe she is breaking down because of Percy – but there's a bigger thing behind that. A bigger thing that even her own _siblings _can't even see – and they're supposed to be the children of Athena!

She breaks down because she sees everyone . . . Silena, Luke, and even Ethan – who she didn't know all that much, anyways – die right before her eyes. Again and again – always repeating, never stopping. She's supposed to get stronger – the nightmares are no longer supposed to haunt her, but they still do. They never stop. In all truth, she gets weaker and weaker every night.

She doesn't want to be a hero again – she doesn't want to _save the world_ or whatever _bullshit _the gods call it. She doesn't want the honor, the glory, or the fame. Money has no use for her, and honor and glory and fame do not suit her being well.

Being a hero comes with a price – a price that she sure as hell _does not want_ to pay.

**Vote on the poll. I now have ten people who did. (Thanks to those of you who did.) This will help determine what we have more of.**

**Also, for the few regulars who didn't review the last chapter, I kindly ask you to. Let's get those 200 reviews before we get to chapter 50! Love you guys.**


	42. Appreciation

**Started: 10/18/10**

**Completed:11/30/10**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_42. Appreciation_

She never had much of a mother – that much was true.

It was all about her career, at first. It was all about how the world saw the 'greatest, most talented Grace to ever walk the Earth,' as her mother's manager said. A child with a random stranger – at least, that's what the press would say – would ruin her image. So she was kept a secret.

That was before the paparazzi incident. That was before the _drugs_. That was before she had run away.

Her mother _used _to be caring – as caring as an _unstable _person could be – as hard as it was to believe. They would always play board games, watch movies, or have some 'mother-daughter' time together. Somehow – though Thalia didn't know why – it always ended up with her mother crying. Never did their times spent together end with a smile.

And Thalia would ask, "Why are you crying, Mommy? Is it because of Daddy? Is it because Dad is never here?" Thalia was always too smart for her own good – not Athena-smart, but smart to a certain extent – but she never knew that sometimes things are better left unsaid.

And so her mother would answer, "Thalia, my little Thalia Grace, you want to know about your father?" Her voice would always crack at the end – she never did know why until later.

"He is a great, powerful man. He rules over the heavens with his mighty thunderbolts. He gave birth to many a hero, but never one as powerful as you. And so you are named Thalia, as is the Muse of Comedy. You wish to know of your _father_? He is Zeus, king of the Olympian gods." That's when she would start to cry again – and no amount of comfort from Thalia could ever knock her out of that stupor.

But sometimes it worked, if she tried hard enough.

. . .

Eventually her mother got tired of being a mother – of doing the job she was supposed to – and the nightly telling of the great king. She did not want comfort from her innocent daughter. The time for fairytales was over.

It was then she turned to the drugs – it was also then that _he _came back. It was then she had a son; a little brother for Thalia. Did she want him subject to the pain?

No. Jason was always the favorite – he got less beatings, more praise. He got more of the mother that _Thalia _wanted – and he took all of it for granted (okay, maybe not) but she was _hers_! She wanted the mother that Jason had. _She _wanted the praise, true, but he was her brother. She should be glad it was her who got the beatings, the pain – because her brother was so innocent, the way she was once innocent.

She wasn't, and a family's loyalty only goes so far.

No, she didn't want Jason subject to the pain. No, she didn't want him beaten every day – whenever he did even the slightest thing wrong.

But she wanted their mother's appreciation. _She_ should be the favorite, because _she _deserved as much.

* * *

**Oh. My. Gods. I am eternally grateful to all my reviewers! I love you guys so much! This was written a LONG time ago, and I am questioning whether it was good enough to put on here or not.**

**I'm posting another chapter right now because this hardly seems fair to you guys - all these reviews and only one chapter.**


	43. Importance

_In Between Our Lies_

_43. Importance_

"I'm tired of being judged!" she screams at him — because she's finally snapped and she just _can't _take it anymore. She's tired of him playing hero and everyone thinking – just because she's his sister – that she's great and powerful and mighty. Can't they get that she's _new _and _not trained _and that it should be okay that she can't pick up a sword?

"I . . . Don't judge you," he murmurs quietly – she knows he's trying to console her – but that just doesn't cut it.

"Other people do; if anything they make it a habit. Of course you wouldn't understand," she snarls at him. Of course he wouldn't understand! He's treated like _royalty _and everything just because he's saved the world _once_. She doesn't even get a chance to prove herself because she's new and untrained.

"I –" he tries to say, but she cuts him off.

"Don't say you understand! You don't know what it's like . . . 'Oh Percy he's so great; Percy saved us all.' I'm tired of it! I hate being compared to _you_. And of all people I get Mr. Prophecy-child for a brother."

"I'm sorry." He really does seem sincere – this just pushes her more over the edge. It's pity she really doesn't want.

"I don't want you pity."

"Look –"

"Get out."

"This is my –"

"_Get out!_" she screams, because she needs to be alone and it's just not _fair_. All of it wasn't fair!

Life was not fair – the Fates would just chew her up and spit her back out. She's so unlucky! She has a little _prodigy _brother who's saved the world and done all this great stuff – and what has she done? Nothing. She has done nothing worthy of importance, anyway – not to her father, not to anyone on Olympus, and not even to her _friends_.

Everyone keeps expecting her to be _great _at everything Percy's best at. Don't they understand that _she _is the individual here? So what if she can't swim the best or sword fight the greatest? Percy certainly _can't _shoot a bow, can he? He can't, but she _can_. Of course no one is worried about arrows and whatnot – they care all about _her_, how she's new and obviously so frail, and Percy, because he's saved everyone and has the architect girlfriend. No one cares if she is alone and afraid.

She knows Percy is just trying to help – of course he is, he's a good brother – and she's tried her very hardest to listen and please him and do the very best she can. But she is just tired of it. She's tired of trying to please everyone – her father, her friends, the camp – and trying to prove herself to everybody. If being herself doesn't cut it, who is she supposed to be?

Percy? She can't be Percy – she doesn't know how to _save the world _or defeat the Titan Kronos. If she can't even pick up a sword, how can she be Percy? She can't live up to the family name – she can't be a hero right away. She sure as Hades isn't going to be someone she's not. If they don't accept her for who she is, then they can suck it – she'll run away.

No one will miss her here; all she is here is a _toy_. Toys are new and shiny – and then they become worn out and used-up and just plain old _damaged_. Is that how she will become? Worn out and used-up and_ damaged_ – is that her fate? Will she become someone lost in the shadows, erased from history – because she didn't live up to Percy's _legacy_?

* * *

**I do admit this was cliche, yes. I'm sorry, but I just couldn't resist! I had to try this one out!**


	44. Rainbow

**Leo/Piper. Mentioned Piper/Jason. Enjoy.**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_44. Rainbow_

He's never been too fond of rainbows. They were just so full of _colors _and their aura just seemed to be so freaking _happy_. He's a forge guy – he likes fires and darkness and being _isolated_. Rainbows are not something he likes – in fact, he hates rainbows. Somehow, he manages to like the rainbows in Piper's eyes, though.

Piper she was so beautiful – unnaturally so, the Beauty Queen – and kind . . . and totally _off limits _and _out of his league_, just like every other girl who has ever crossed his mind. She's off limits because, hello, she's dating Jason _freaking_ Grace! And she's out of his league because she's the nicest-looking Aphrodite chick he's even seen – and she isn't even the least bit stuck up about it. In fact, she didn't even want to be an Aphrodite girl at all.

Behind every hero, there is the sidekick that so desperately wanted to get the girl.

Behind Jason Grace, there is Leo Valdez – the sidekick. Stupid Jason – he's his friend, he knows – but he's gotten everything he's ever wanted. Gods – dammit – he's the freaking son of Jupiter for crying out loud! He gets to be the _leader_ – he gets to be remembered forever. He should _not _get the girl, too! Was that too much to even ask?

It's sort of ironic, if you think about it. How their parents—Aphrodite and Hephaestus – were forced together, and Aphrodite brushed his father aside. Silena and Beckendorf – the dead Aphrodite-and-Hephaestus couple – were the exact opposite. Silena and Beckendorf actually _loved _each other – it was like a sort of Disney fairytale scenario (too bubbly and happy, but they didn't get the happy ending). It's funny, because you can _never _imagine a daughter of Aphrodite to want anything to do with a son of Hephaestus. It's pretty ironic, too, because they probably would've been married – just like their parents – had they survived the war. But now we'll never know, because they are dead.

Their situation – him and Piper – seems almost as if history is repeating itself, like a cruel joke of the Fates. Leo and Piper, they were never _ever _going to be together – it was like a demigod Aphrodite-and-Hephaestus all over again. It was a mocking song sung by the Muses. It _sucked_.

It was always going to be Jason-and-Piper, here at the Greek camp. Leo heard the Aphrodite cabin even started making up 'dating names' for Jason and Piper – not that he knew what that was, only that it sounded s-t-u-p-i-d _stupid_ – and Leo can't help but feel the tiniest bit jealous. He wanted to imagine the Aphrodite cabin doing _that _for Leo and Piper.

When they went over to San Fran – because Jason told the whole camp council about his dreams and these strange names that just pop out of nowhere – then there's going to be this whole Jason-and-Piper-and-Reyna. What fun. What wonderful, wonderful _fun_. (Because he's sure that if Jason picks Reyna, he's going to be the rebound guy for Piper – and that's not how he wanted to get her.)

* * *

They only ever had one _real _moment besides that quest, and all those other "fake" memories implanted in his brain – he says "fake" because he's sure they're real.

_She touches Leo's forehead. "Geez, Leo, you're hot." She scoots closer to him because it's just _freezing _cold. He laughs._

_"Nice to know you think so highly of me."_

_"No, really. Do you have a fever? Are you feeling okay?" She really looks concerned, and he can't help but feel a little bit touched._

_"Oh that," he brushes of nonchalantly. "Side effect of the whole 'fire kid' thing. Cool, huh?"_

_She looks almost startled, but seems to brush it off. "Not as cool as charmspeak, Valdez."_

_"You wish, Beauty Queen." Piper scoots just a little bit closer – even though she's practically sitting on his lap – and rests her head against his shoulder. He thinks that it must be _really _cold for her to want to stay sitting beside him – that is, if he really did feel feverish. _That's okay_, he thinks, because it feels really nice._

Leo finds himself thinking every day was like that – just him and Piper, with her head on his shoulder. Just the two of them, forever and ever. But until Piper and Jason get this whole 'relationship' thing worked out – _especially _if Reyna's involved – all he's ever going to be is either the rebound guy, or the friend. All Leo knows is that he doesn't want to be the latter – not only the latter.

He wants to be a rebound guy, even if it means he only gets Piper for a little bit. At least he'd have her.

* * *

**Sorry I couldn't update yesterday. Science stuff - meh. My teacher's awesome - he curses and EVERYTHING, he's really up-to-date and funny and connects with us (on what? a peer level?) - anyways, he's a killer, too. **

**If I'm lucky I'll finish another chapter tonight and post it. If I'm lucky...(I've been soarin' on good luck today.)**

**Come on. Click the sexy button below - the one that says review. I'll review one of your stories - I always do! (I did not mean to make that cheesy rhyme, but okay then!)**


	45. Dirty Little Secret

_In Between Our Lies_

_45. Dirty Little Secret_

"Hey, Luke," I say, "don't take too long on your trip, okay?" Luke laughs, like there's no way in the world he could ever take _too long _on his trip. "I'm serious," I say, because he's obviously not taking this seriously.

"Okay, Annie," he says, grinning, but not laughing. I used to love his nickname for me – and now I hate it with every fiber of my being. I try not to glare at him. Instead, I pull the corners of my mouth into a smile, but I'm afraid it looks like a grimace. "Really, it's only a week long trip. No terrorists are going to hijack my plane, alright?"

"Sure, that's just what those other passengers said to their wives on Nine-Eleven," I snap back. I don't want him to die – really, I don't – but I just want him to come back in one peace.

"I love you, Annie. I have to go board my plane now." Luke left with a smile on his face. I don't answer and say _I love you, too _back because I'm afraid I don't love him anymore – I just can't say it.

That's when I met him.

. . .

"Who are you waiting for?" I ask the guy sitting at the table across from me.

"Nobody," he answers, his sea-green eyes sparkling. "I come here daily."

"So, you just come to the airport for the habit of it, then?"

He laughs – I like his laugh – like I've said the funniest thing in the world. I don't know what made me ask this guy a question, but he just seemed so _lonely_. "Yeah, I like the airport. It's crowded – helps me think."

"Really?" I ask in disbelief. "You look like the surfer type." And he does – with his shorts and black hair and broad shoulders, he really does look like a surfer.

"I mean, it helps me forget about my girl that I was going to marry. Too many bad memories out at sea." The stranger looks away, as if trying to clear his head.

I feel taken aback. "I'm sorry," I mutter, but he doesn't look troubled or emotionally ill. In fact, he seems really happy about it.

"Nah, it's okay. She went behind my back dating this emo boy." We sit in silence for a while – but it's not an uncomfortable silence, like the ones I always have with Luke.

"Well, I had to drop off my husband, and I should be going now anyways. Sorry about the emo scenario."

He answers, "It's okay, really, and she was such a whore anyways. She was a painter, too, and a good one. What about you?"

I really should've been getting to work, but it was a Saturday and Mark could do with me a few minutes late. "Oh, I'm an architect. I've always wanted to be one . . ." I try not to drone on too much about the specifics of architect, because when I do people's eyes always glaze over. I don't notice much.

"How 'bout talkin' in English for me, Wise Girl?" he asks me, and I have to laugh. I didn't notice him get up and sit at my table, but I'm glad.

"Can't handle the heat, Seaweed Brain?" I ask, because I'm too stunned at seeing him up close to actually come up with a witty comeback. I think 'Seaweed Brain' was good enough, though. "Sorry about droning on about my job."

"Nah, it's okay. I liked it, actually, even though I could only understand the 'ands' and 'structure.' " He blushes, but I can't tell why. "If only you were a teacher at a college – maybe then I would've changed my major." I feel pleased, I think, and something else registers. I'm not sure what, but I feel as giddy as a schoolgirl again. Luke never made me feel this way, except for the days back in college – maybe because Luke always made me feel like a rebel. He gave me a freedom that I never had before.

"What do you major in?" I question, because I'm really curious now. It's not that I'm nosy, but he genuinely makes me want to know more about him – and I don't even know his name.

"Marine Biology, except I kept changing my mind, so on my applications they're all different. I finally settled in on one, though." He checks his watch, and then his face takes on a sad characteristic. "Crap, it's one already. I was supposed to meet Calypso at the dock to check the water samples . . . I'll meet you again here tomorrow?" he asks me.

I don't hesitate – even though I should've – to answer, "Sure." I start walking away, when I hear him call me.

"Here's my name and number." The black-haired man hands me a card – I think it's a business card – and I look up and answer with a "thanks," and give him my number as well. "Well, Wise Girl, I'll see you later, then." He starts walking away, and I'm sad, but his eyes never leave mine. I'm actually surprised he didn't run into anyone yet.

I look down at the name (which I read perfectly, even though I'm dyslexic – thanks for not acting up now!) – _Perseus Jackson _– and the number (which blur together), and smile. Surprised, I touch my lips – no man has made me smile in four and a half years.

. . .

We meet for the next couple of days, and all of a sudden – without any of us saying it – our meetings become habit. I'm not a workaholic anymore – I only ever was to get away from Luke – and when I'm with Percy I feel complete again. I feel a spark that I haven't felt in a long time – the spark I lost when Luke started going on business trips.

Luke comes and goes, and all of a sudden, I don't mind it at all. I'm eager for him to leave – I _want _him gone, gone, gone. I lie to him when he comes home and asks what I've been doing. "Work," I say, "so I don't have to miss you as much." He smiles pleasantly, and I think I'm overdoing it. I don't stop lying, though, and I still meet Percy. Should I feel guilty about that?

. . .

It's me who kisses first. (Must I _always _take the first step?) Percy puts a hand out to stop me, and I push it away. "No," he says, "you have a husband." I try to seem hurt, but, really, I expected this from him. He always thought of others, but never himself – never his wants, never his needs.

"Who is _never _there!" I scream. It's a good thing we're at his house, or else everyone would be staring at me. "I need someone who _gets_ me, who is there for me! Luke, he's always on business trips – he's always _away_. I don't have a husband – I have a shadow that isn't mine." My eyes start to water, which is a nice touch, I think. "I'm lonely," I whisper – and maybe this is the first time I've actually said it out loud.

He cradles my face. "Don't cry, Annabeth," he pleads. I try to hold the tears in as he kisses me, very gently, on the lips. "I'll be the one to hold you."

. . .

I was every bit willing to give Percy my body – every bit willing to give to him what was rightfully _his_. I know he wanted to take it – but he was too kind. "Did you tell him?" he always asks as I step into his house, and I always shake my head.

"I will, soon," I always promise.

"Okay," he says, but how can he when he always knows I'm lying? (I think he feels guilty about me cheating on Luke – is it weird that I don't? He can feel every bit guilty for the both of us.)

. . .

One day, though, I finally get the courage to tell Luke – watching Percy was too much, all that guilt in his eyes. I just couldn't take it anymore. I can't drag this task forwards any longer. I must face destiny now – no matter how bad it will hurt.

"You . . . fucking . . . whore!" Luke manages to choke out. I look away, gloomily, but don't say anything. He deserves to call me these names. I deserve the titles he spits at me.

"I'm sorry you weren't the one," I whisper.

"Don't give me that fucking _bullshit_. You just got tired of me . . . After four and a half years – it's been that long? – and you turn out to be a bloody ho." His words hang in the air, trapping me, choking me. Is he right? Did I _just get tired of him_, like he said? Am I no better than the girls at the club, whom I so degrade?

But, no, I really love Percy – I _know_ I love Percy. So, what was Luke, then? Maybe it was a sort of affection – a mutual affection at first, which grew into love for Luke. Or maybe . . . ? No, I wouldn't _use _Luke like that. I loved him – or did I just love the sense of freedom he gave me?

"Get out of my fucking house Annabeth. I hope you have fun with your new boyfriend." I take my things – which I have little left of, anyways, since I moved some of them to Percy's – and feel stripped of whatever dignity I have left.

. . .

"I do," he whispers – head held high, shoulders back, with a smile that lights up his entire face. Did I deserve this?

"And do you—" I cut the damn priest off.

"I do," I say. If the priest was startled, he doesn't look it. We don't say anything, so I just go ahead and kiss Percy – because God's been keeping us apart too long.

* * *

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been working on my two other stories - War and A Little Something Like That. Check them out, please. **


	46. Years

Review reply to anonymous reviewer _amie_: I actually have written one of those – check out my _Heroes of Olympus_ fanfiction, _War_. I might still post some on here, later, if you want. Thanks for the review! (And I do recommend you get yourself an account!)

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

46. _Years_

_. . ._

_Five Years_

That was the age he had first met Annabelle, his daughter. She was so . . . _alive_. Buoyant, bright, happy. She was the girl who would always ask questions – always seek more, always strive for more. She was the overachiever.

Somewhere down in there, though, Travis saw _himself_. He saw it in the spark of playfulness in his daughter's eyes. He saw it when she was thinking (up a prank). He saw it as she played – jumped, ran, laughed. Travis Stoll had passed _something _on to his daughter – maybe it was himself.

. . .

_Fourteen Years_

"Oh, and Annabelle?" Travis says to his now-fourteen-years-_young_ daughter.

"Yes, Daddy?" she still says it with that "innocent child" demeanor. (He may not want to admit it, but he still buys it.)

He chuckles. "Just know me and your mother are opt to strangle this boy to death by flowers –"

"That's right!" Katie yells from the kitchen.

Travis tries to act indifferent, but inwardly, he's smiling because his wife – he still can't believe she left _Will Solace_, who's a hundred times better than him – actually _agrees_ with him. That was a feat he had yet to manage when coming to their daughter. (Long story short, they couldn't agree on how to raise her.) "And, hey, if silly putty ends up in his backpack, it's just a harmless prank, right?"

Annabelle playfully slaps his shoulder. "Just don't kill him, alright? Don't ask any of the gods to, either, or I'll hang you," she threatens, jokingly.

Travis holds his hands up in mock defeat/surrender. "Hey, I can't promise anything."

She glares good-naturedly, knowing he wouldn't do anything. "He's only mortal, after all." (He only hopes she ends up marrying a half-blood, or maybe even _Percy's _– finally got her knocked up – son.)

. . .

_Seventeen Years_

Annabelle was a stranger to him, now – the all-too familiar stranger. It's not that it bothered him – if anything, he liked her rebellious stage; it marked her as one of _his _(not necessarily Hermes, but _Travis Stoll_) – but he did miss the innocent, not necessarily naïve Annabelle. The one that would always question, always want to know the answer. (Not that this _new, teenage _Annabelle didn't question – in fact, she did it quite often.)

This Annabelle had _newer, better, bestest _friends to attend to now. Apparently, she was innocent enough for drugs – but dirty enough for swear words. Not that he _minded_ the swearing (actually, it was kind of a relief to be able to say things like _fuck _in front of her).

How quickly she seemed to have changed from _helpless_ to _relying_ (on him) to _semi_-_dependent_ to _independent – _it seemed like so little time. How many years had gone by? Only seventeen? It felt like the blink of an eye. Did it always, for everyone, everywhere? (Was it just him?)

Soon she'd be gone – off to college, hopefully. A university, if they were lucky enough. (Oh, how he could _brag _to Annabeth that his little Annabelle was going to a _university_!) Travis just wanted his daughter to have a stable, well-founded future. No drugs, no Vegas lifestyle – he just wanted her to be _certain _of things. She could even have a husband if she wanted – get _pregnant_, even.

If he wanted this good life for his daughter, why was it so hard to let her go? If he knew that she was going to be in good hands (maybe a _boy's _hands) why did he not want her to leave? Why was it so hard to watch her walk away? Did he find that hard to believe? (Not the school part – the _leaving _part.)

Guess he's just a paranoid Daddy.

. . .

_Twenty-two Years_

Oh. My. Gods. Annabelle is pregnant. _Pregnant_: One word, two syllables, with a definition and all. The definition was_ having a child or other offspring developing in the body. _Physically; yes. Emotionally . . . well, that was a whole other thing to stomach. (Even for Travis, who's always had a strong stomach.)

How could it be _real_? Annabelle was just a little girl – it was _days _ago. (He knows it's been _twenty-two years_, but he can still remember her at five.) How could he comprehend there was something _growing _inside his precious daughter? That he was going to be a grandfather?

That was the thing: he couldn't.

He was . . . _not worthy _of being a grandfather. Old enough, sure, but he wasn't ready for this. (Almost makes him wish he has other children to worry about, but, alas, he has only one.) When they told him (and Katie, too) he was . . . shocked, angry, confused, happy – his brain couldn't decide.

_It wasn't a phone call. (Her fiancée was _much _too roy-al for that.) It was person-to-person. (Sadly.)_

_"Travis, we have something to tell you," he begins to say, and he knows the answer already. (What sane person _wouldn't_?)_

_"She's pregnant, isn't she?"_

_Annabelle finally speaks, voice cracking – broken, beaten: "How did you know?" _

_"You're already engaged, what were you going to do next? Play _checkers_? Makin' love was the next step – only a matter of time before she got knocked up." Travis says these things matter-of-factly, and he's sure his daughter expected the very worst. Instead, she got an indifferent face offered. No wonder relief was flooding into her features, exploding in her body. It still didn't calm the frenzy of anticipation that was clearly written in her features._

_"Don't worry," the boy whispers to her," we'll make it through this. Together."_

_"That's what you're worried about?" he asks, spitting it. "You'll always have a home here – solace, relief – and we can take care of it, if you'd like. Only if you stay here, of course. Why are you so worried?"_

_"Daddy, you don't get it –"_

_"Then _explain_," he snarls. (It's not that he's mad, per se, just sort of . . . drunk, and maybe a little high.)_

_"You don't _get it_! What if I'm not a good mother? What if he's sick – blind or something? How can I _live _knowing there's some default button on me? That I'm not right – not normal? What if he's crippled? I'll love him unconditionally, sure, but what if? Abortion? I would never consider it._

_"But I'm scared – really and truly scared. I've never been scared before. I have a career on the line. My baby is more important – but how can I help him in the future, when my education is long gone, spent away stressing and struggling? I. Am. Terrified. Right now." It was the first time she had ever admitted it._

_. . ._

_Fifty-seven years_

It was an accident that took him away from the world – car crash, drunk driver. It was the driver's fault, he likes to think as he's in the Underworld. But no, Thanatos was calling him – Travis Stoll would not enter the earth again.

He's going to admit it – he's kind of sad he left the earth this way. Death has taken him, and he, crumbling, shook hands gladly, willingly. But now he lived on through memories only – pictures faded, memories dwindling, soon dead.

Oh, no. He reminds himself that in his daughter, Annabelle Jackson (she married Percy's boy after all), he lives on. The spark in his eyes has passed to his grandson, now . . . well, the math was too complicated. His laugh, his ingenious pranks, lived on in his brother and granddaughter. He was not dead to the world – no, Travis Stoll would live on forever more, in everyone.

But more so, his daughter – whom he was eternally proud of.

* * *

_**Isn't it nice to see our little Annabelle - who's only been mentioned once, in her special chapter - all grown up with a kid?**_

_**Okay, I'm not gonna make excuses, but I'm sorry. (This isn't excuse, it's the truth.) I've been busy lately, so I haven't been able to give that everyday update. Sorry, really, I am.**_

_**Anyways, hope this satisfies - since I don't usually write more than 700 or so words. (This was more than 1,000!)**_

_**Love you all! (Check out my other stories!)**_


	47. Tide

_In Between Our Lies_

_47. Tide_

If Annabeth Chase had learned one thing throughout her entire time here on earth, it was this: Don't _ever _go against the tide; always let it push you, propel you, forward. If you fight the tide, things will not go your way. Go with the flow, and things will be fine – things will be _perfect_. Don't make little ripples, do not cause giant waves – it is best to let the Fates' will be their own.

But, apparently, Fate wanted to _mock_ her. _Ha ha_, the sisters jeered, _we have your _precious _hero, and there is nothing you can do. Our will is irrevocable – you cannot fight it, you will not win. _Annabeth didn't like that – in fact, like was a mere understatement. She wanted to fight back, to yell, to scream, anything, something. How could she? They were right – pretending anything different would be _stupid_.

She was only one small power in the midst of many. Little ripples and giant waves did nothing here – if she was the one who made them. She should just accept that Percy was gone – long gone, far beyond hope or reasoning. But how – but _why_?

Her love for Percy – unlike her supposed love for Luke – had surpassed all things, all reasonability. She hoped, she dreamed, and she went through life as silently and deadly as she could manage. She would be the first to defy the Fates.

Percy was coming home – tide or no.


	48. People

_In Between Our Lies_

_48. __People_

_Jason: Memory_

His memory is long gone. So, why is there this faint feeling of something

Missing?

. . .

_Thalia: Put Away Forever_

She finally got over Jason.

He was gone.

Him coming back was more than she could

Hope for.

. . .

_Percy: Rome_

If only he remembered the blonde girl's

Name.

Maybe then it wouldn't

Be so bad.

. . .

_Annabeth: Missing_

Percy's missing.

How?

Why?

When?

How could she have been so stupid?

. . .

_Piper: Love_

She's the daughter of love.

She should know this feeling.

But it's all new, alien.

She loves him, though.

. . .

_Leo: Out of Sight_

He will always be the third wheel.

He _loves _her.

Doesn't she know?

. . .

_Reyna: Unrequited_

She missed him.

He forgot her.

She's never been good enough.

* * *

**Yes, I stole this idea from shadowinthedark, who stole it from someone else. Okay? Anyways, vote on which one you want me to do next, okay? Cool.**


	49. Rule Breaker

_In Between Our Lies_

_49. Rule Breaker_

She's tired of everyone looking at her, and immediately thinking, "That girl has a boyfriend." She knows that they think it, and she knows they think she's some sort of rule breaker. (Okay, maybe she is, but that's not the point.) She just _hates_ how they asses if it is _Percy _– who has a girlfriend, for gods' sake, and a good one, too – or _Nico _– there's nothing wrong with him, but Hades' son? No, thanks, she can do better than that – or even _Apollo _– aren't gods a big no-no, as well as boys? Really, it's plain ridiculous; she may be a rule breaker, but this is one rule she _will not _break.

Okay, maybe guys have been the center point of all her crushes – the center point of her whole _frickin' _life – and maybe none of those relationships turned out good. Maybe it's her bad luck with guys – or maybe it was the spirit of Delphi saying 'no dating' before she even became the Oracle. Who knows?

Why can't the Oracle date, anyways? Is it because there is no one on the frickin' earth who is meant for her? Is it because she has no soul mate here in this world? Or is it because Apollo is a _selfish idiot_?

It doesn't matter to Rachel, though – the reason the rule was made. She's just not gonna break this rule – no, not this time.

She's kind of tired of playing the rebel. Maybe it's time to play innocent for a while longer.

* * *

**Oh my gods. I totally LOVE LOVE LOVE bookADDICT6 for reviewing a whole bunch (not that I don't love all the other reviewers) who has gotten me above 250 reviews. I AM SO HAPPY!**

**Anyways, this chapter was for the people who hate all those Rachel pairings and think she should just stay an awesome, independant Oracle.**

**Also, from Chapter 50-whatever, it's sorta gonna be a reviewer's choice thing. So, vote on the last chapter, pick who you want me to write about first - but I'm gonna do all of them, I just need one to start with. And after that, it's gonna be all my regulars who are gonna pick the pairings and stuff! Okay? Was that confusing?**

***Regulars being the reviewers who usually review every chapter or whatever.**


	50. Unrequited

_In Between Our Lies_

_50. (Reyna) Unrequited_

She missed him.

He forgot her.

She's never been good enough.

How easily had happiness been ripped from her careful fingertips, all these years? (Too easy, she thinks, but that's just how they like it.) Her mother's life, her father's affection, and her Jason's love. How had that all been taken from her – so easily, so precisely?

Reyna had tried _so_ _hard_ to do everything – why did it always fail? She did her best to keep her mother alive, and yet her heart still failed. She had tried to win her father's affection, to be the _favorite _child, and she's probably lucky if Mars even remembers her name.

She wanted Jason to love her – to really _love her, _not like Venus loved all those guys – and they were _just friends _year after year. When she finally got the idiot to go out with her, it backfired in her face.

Why? 'Cause they were supposed to have a happy ending – the war was over; Saturn defeated. They were supposed to have that storybook _happily ever after_. What does she get instead? She gets a kidnapped boyfriend and her camp in a panic. (What friggin' fun.) That's not exactly Reyna's idea of 'happily ever after.'

She was trying _so hard _– so damn hard – to get him back now. She wanted him to hold her, to smell his fragrance (burnt meat, that's what it smelled like), to tell her everything was alright. Reyna wanted Jason to come back to camp – come back to _her _and say how it was all a big joke: he was on a fake quest or something.

But there's something in her gut that's telling her it's not gonna be that simple. (She secretly always hates those gut feelings 'cause they always turn out right.)

She knows it's not that simple. Jason's not going to come back – problems dissolving. She knows somewhere, deep down, that she is going to need to _work _for it. (You could call it intuition.)

That's okay, though, 'cause Reyna's used to working for things she wants.

XXX

"Reyna, babe, I need you to promise me something." Reyna promised, she swore on her life she'd do anything _anything _as long as it kept her mother alive. "There's this camp, in Cali, and I . . ."

"What, Mom, what?" Reyna demanded. Her mother seemed to be sucking in breaths – in, out, in, out. (She tried hard, so why didn't it seem like enough?)

"You . . . you need to go there, Rey . . . 'cause it's really important . . . that you go . . ." Her mother drew in a deep breath. "P-promise me . . . promise me you'll go."

"I promise, Mom." And then her mother died.

XXX

"Hey Dad," she says right after the great big victory speech (yada, yada, _bo-ring_, not that it isn't a great honor or anything). It's during the party, and he's finally alone.

"Oh, hey . . . You're . . . Reyna?"

Reyna can feel the warmth rushing to her cheeks. "Yeah, Dad."

"Okay then." Mars turns. "Venus, baby!" He starts talking to her, which results in a slap from Venus, and Mars walking away disappointedly. (Oh well, you win some, you lose some, right?)

She doesn't know what to feel: anger, resentment, relief, or embarrassment. She has just helped save Olympus and she gets rewarded with . . . nothing. Her father does not know she exists. Somehow she can't find that hard to believe.

XXX

"Come here, you big goof." Suddenly Jason is leaning into her – kissing, and putting his hands (well, she doesn't care). Reyna likes Jason's kisses – they are sweet, warm, inviting. How could she have missed something like this – and for so long?

"You know, you kiss well." She falls asleep in his arms, and when she awakes, Jason is gone.

* * *

**This is dedicated to bookADDICT6, for reviewing a bunch. She voted for this one, obviously. =)**

**-bookluva98**


	51. Love

_In Between Our Lies_

_51. (Piper) Love_

She's the daughter of love.

She should know this feeling.

But it's all new, alien.

She loves him, though.

Whenever Piper called back the memories – willed them to come from the hazy veil that clouded it – she got a sense of . . . _wrongness _about her and Jason in the memories. Jason was clumsier, different . . . mortal, maybe. She was, well, perfect-looking. Not the sort of perfect that everyone envies – but the kind where it's a _natural _sort of beauty. (Even Piper has to admit, she _does _look pretty spankin' hot.)

Now, whenever she called back memories that were _real _she got a very different feeling. It felt . . . well, not _right_, but maybe very close to it. This Jason was more than adequate – powerful, kind, just. Piper, however, was more or less the same. (Unless you counted her profound ability to charmspeak, which some didn't.)

She did get a sort of _fuzzy _feeling when she was with Jason now – it was different than _before_. She felt lighthearted, happy, like she was floating on air. It was a rush that no drug could ever hope to give. (Was it love?)

She's the daughter of love, sure. She really _should _know this feeling. But it's all new, alien. She's never had anyone she wanted to be with _forever _and _ever_. It's always just been _Piper_. There was no _Piper and Tristan_ – 'cause Aphrodite knows that her dad was too busy for her. There was no _Piper/Dylan _– she's glad she didn't fall for that monster. There was never, ever – ever, ever, _ever _– going to be a _Piper/Leo_.

But could there be a _Piper/Jason_? Could it be _real_? She'll admit, she doesn't _know _love – not like her other siblings know love. She loves him, though. (As in, she loves Jason.) It's kind of sweet that she couldn't have helped but fall for him – but only if you thought like her siblings did. Piper doesn't like to say she thinks like her siblings do.

If you think about it, it's sort of a fairy tale – the way their relationship is. Gods, he's a son of Jupiter, as in, Roman – and she's a lowly daughter of Aphrodite (can anyone say _Greek?_) who can't pull herself together. You might call Jason the prince, and Piper the damsel in distress – but she doesn't like to think of herself as the _damsel_, though her siblings might say otherwise.

Piper doesn't care that there's this _Reyna _who might come between them – she's going to make the best of this, _now_. She's going to take what she has and make it into something beautiful. If there's a Reyna who wants Jason back, so _what_? Let Jason pick. She has had Jason for a good few months, and that's the best thing she could hope for.

. . .

They say you only fall in love once, and few people are lucky to have that love. (Why, with demigods, they always find love?) They say some people can live their whole life without having _true love_. They also say you're lucky to get love once.

She lost the love.

Jason picked Reyna.

She will never get over him – she knows this for a fact. She couldn't help fall for Jason – Jason with his perfect _everything_. It's a tragedy he already had Reyna. And – because Piper loves him – she let Jason pick. (He didn't pick her.) She loves him, so she's happy for him.

Except, she _will never get over Jason. _(He was always the one.)

* * *

**This is for aleki98, my fanfiction and real buddy who I've known for - what? - four years now. Anyways, I hope you like!**


	52. Put Away Forever

**I'm not sure if this satisfies. PM me or review if you want this to be longer.**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_52. (Thalia) Put Away Forever_

She finally got over Jason.

He was gone.

Him coming back was more than she could

Hope for.

Betrayal, that's the first thing I feel when my mother comes back alone. Jason is gone. Where is he? Bathroom, maybe? Or did he run off somewhere, playing hide-and-go-seek like he always did? (How could I hope so naively?)

I know the answer before she even utters a damn thing about Hera.

Jason is gone.

. . .

I have buried him under grief – under the cruelties of our mother, the absence of our godly father. I have not spoken of him in many years, too many years to count. (Not that I want to – this sting is better than the hole that I will conjure up if I do share my grief.)

None of my friends – my best, _best _friends, whom I consider my family – know of him. Jason Grace: the boy who my mother gave away (or Hera stole). How ashamed would I be, if I'd told them? Too ashamed – they would think me, and my mother, a disgrace. I could not live if I had no more family anymore.

. . .

Confusion, that is the first thing I feel when this random stranger appears and tells me he's my brother. Jason, my brother that has been gone too long for me to count. If he is wrong, and this is a prank, that boy better damn well like being a pile of ash.

But then I take a good look at him . . . The scars, the hair, and the eyes – they are all _his_. I have no more doubt in my mind that this boy is Jason Grace. He is probably the one boy I will genuinely love while I am a Hunter – and I am sure Artemis will allow this, locked up as she is.

I would give up my vow for my brother (and for Luke, too, but he's dead now) and if Artemis does not like that, then she better find herself another damn lieutenant.

* * *

**Okay, for those complaining about the Piper fic being a Reyna/Jason and the Reyna fic being a Piper/Jason, stop! I have used both pairings, okay? **

**Merry Christmas, even though Christmas was yesterday over here! I know this has nothing to do with Christmas, but oh well.**

**Be warned, I'm probably going to do Leo next - ah, a nice little love triangle.**


	53. Out Of Sight

**The center thing is jacking up, so . . . let's just pretend here.**

____

_In Between Our Lies_

_53. (Leo) Out of Sight_

He will always be the third wheel.

He loves her.

Doesn't she know?

. . .

Piper has always been blind to his . . . attraction for her. She's always been concerned with Jason. It was bad enough that the first time was proved false, but Piper found herself falling for Jason again! It was a living nightmare for Leo. It was a wonderful heaven for Jason – this, Leo is sure of. (After all, who would not want her company?)

. . .

He's at the archery place – he doesn't really remember what they call it – practicing, even though he knows he sucks. And Piper is there, looking so wonderful, and she's way better than him by far. (Not that he's going to compliment her or anything, 'cause that'd be weird.)

"You know you suck at this," she says. She's joking, but Leo can't help but wonder if Jason was any better. There's that bitter feeling of resentment rising up in him again. (Wonderful – he shouldn't be jealous of his best friend, but he is.)

"Yeah, don't get used to being better than me at something, Princess."

She giggles – or maybe it's a laugh, because he's never been able to tell them apart, anyways. "Princess – that's a new one. I'm starting to think I liked 'Beauty Queen' better."

"Princess Piper, or Beauty Queen Piper? See how weird that sounds? The princess thing was totally ingenious," he says, because he can't think of anything else. (Where did 'ingenious' pop up from? Guess he's just caving under pressure – or whatever the stupid saying was.)

"Wow, 'ingenious' – that's a big vocabulary word. Have you been hanging around with the Athena cabin?" she asks jokingly.

"That's the best you can come up with?" Leo pauses. "Actually, an evil bunny who wants to take over the world forced me to read a dictionary to him so he could learn 'human'."

"Really?" asks Piper, "What was his—"

"Piper!" Jason calls her.

"Well, um, bye," says Piper, and Leo is just thinking how frickin' wonderful her voice sounds and . . . "Leo?"

"What? Oh, yeah, bye, Pipes. See you during Capture the Flag." He cannot hold back the longing in his voice.

"Bye." And as she saunters away, Leo is certain of this one evident fact: He loves Piper McLean – Jason or no.

. . .

Jealousy. That's the emotion that usually flares the brightest in Leo whenever Jason comes around (whether he's with Piper or not). Then comes the resentment, the hatred, the hopelessness. How could he ever compete with that?

Jason is, after all, the perfect image of perfection – and Leo is probably a pretty crappy excuse for a blacksmith. Jason Grace – the mighty son of Jupiter! The girls fawn over him like a movie star – and he practically is one, too. Jason is so blind – so helplessly, helplessly blind. The opportunity has to slap him in the face before he gets it. (Not that he's stupid – just sort of five seconds late.)

Jason does not know his best friend wants his girl. Jason does not know that underneath the lame jokes, there is a side of him that wants to burn Jason and watch him scream. Jason does not know that Piper loves him. Jason does not know that when Medea wanted them to fight, some deep, dark part of him was loving the sensation of blood splattering – his enemies' blood.

Jason does not know the future – he is not perfect.

. . .

How does Piper not know? She is the daughter of love – she should know of all attraction. Yet she is so helplessly blind to the fact that Leo loves her so much. Others do not know, and he does not want sympathy – unrequited love is unknown to them.

Leo should be selfish – he should beg and plead and swear on his life Piper will be his. But Leo's mother taught him that selfishness is a trait one would rather not have – and he couldn't do that to Piper, leave her with no choice.

He knows that every girl he gets a crush on – he never stays in one place too long to actually love them – is way, way out of his league. Except, he never cares. So why does he care now – now, when he is in love and possessing her is something he cannot hope for?

Leo knows why – it's because Aphrodite likes taunting him, or he's the bigger person here. (The latter is highly unlikely.)

____

. . .

_"I love you." His heart is racing – beating so fast that nothing in the world could tame it but the sound of her voice._

_"I love you too . . . but . . . not like that, Leo. Not the way you love me." His mind is now racing, along with his heart. What are these words she says? What do they mean?_

_"I know. I know that you could never love me like that. Jason . . . he's always been the one for you – not me." He's older now, wiser – but now he feels so young, so helplessly young. "Do you know how _hard _it is – watching you be with him? Having him shatter your heart like it's glass? The idea that one day I might have to go to your stupid wedding and _pretend_ to be happy for you both – when in reality I hate his guts and the fact that you're smiling so happily?"_

_He smiles. "So clueless – so very clueless."_

_She looks at him as if she could punch his face (or maybe his shoulder), her eyes watering – it's funny, but he's never seen Piper _cry_. Ever. "You think I don't know the feeling? When I see Jason and Reyna every day here . . . I feel jealous, and they look so happy and it's _wrong_. I love him too much to have Reyna take him. And if she does . . ._

_"I don't know. I can't think." She sighs and rubs her temples with her fingers. "But I know how you feel, so don't you give me all that crap about you loving me and hating Jason – because I _know_. I know that there's slim hope for us – that we could get the one we love – but there's a high chance we won't, not both of us."_

_"But maybe you," Leo says._

_"Yes," she agrees, "maybe me, but I cannot break years of friendship and trust. Just look at Percy and Annabeth – they're still together. I'm not giving up yet, but I will when it's futile."_

_"You're a fighter." The whisper lingers in the air longer than it should._

_"Then what are you, Leo?"_

_The answer does not satisfy either of them. "I don't know."_

* * *

**A/N:**

**Note: the ending, where it was italicized, well, that's the future. Not really a dream, but . . . yeah, the future. Make sense? Not really? I know.**

**I am particularly proud of the ending. I don't know, but I really liked the whole "unrequited love" and "star-crossed lovers" thing.**

**Who else do I have left to do now? Who else voted on the other ones? **


	54. Of Lightning and Thunder

**Dedication: for Inferno of the Damned, who has waited patiently and reviewed many of my new stories. (Did you guys know I have thirteen now? Thirteen!)**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_54. Of Lightning and Thunder_

_They say the lovers of the gods in their all different aspects – Roman; Greek; Egyptian (to name a few) – all have different personalities, split as the gods. They say that you can tell how different they are in comparison – strong spirit; calm persona; endearing aptitude – and that you can match them with the aspect, if you are smart enough. They say that the gods can split themselves to be with each lover at once._

_They say . . . They say . . . They say . . . _

_How reliable are these sources, do you wonder? Are the gods really different people, mushed as one?_

_. . ._

_[Thunder]_

Thunder is just for show – a mere stage prop, if you will. It was meant to scare, but no harm is done in sound waves. That's what thunder is: sound; a simple show of bravado, which everyone believes. Thunder was merely a shadow of a greater danger: the lightning itself.

So, really, he was thunder. His power did not match his Roman aspect, or his others. It was simply a show. False; fabricated; deceitful. He did not wish to seek revenge in those who angered him; did not wish to kill the ones whom his lovers ran to.

In truth, he was a compassionate person. Many a lover did Zeus have, but none that he did not love fully. _(Only his lovers got to see that compassion, though.)_

. . .

"I love you," he whispers into her ear late into the night. Drunken though she is, Grace hears him. _(He calls her Grace because her first name does not suit her. It does not make her shine the way "Grace", her last name, does.)_

"I love you, too," she says – though she's so drunk it sounds like, "I vuv yu, oo." But then she gets a hold on the bottle, takes a swig, and passes out once more.

As a god, he is unable to actually get drunk on mortal substances. He settles with staying clear-headed when he is with his lovers, anyways. _(Makes things easier if he just notices and observes.)_

And so as dawn approaches, he packs his things – silent as a ghost; erasing all traces of his memory from the too-small apartment.

_(He leaves as soon as an inch of the sun's rays slip through the colorful sky.)_

. . .

_[Lightning]_

Lightning is deadly; uncontrollable; unsound. All of the power in his hands – corrupted; tainted with blood and gore. _[How? How did I become this . . . monster?] _He does not deny that the authority was pleasing. In truth, it was nice to be the _boss _instead of the _bossed. _

He had a conquest to achieve – a mission to become the most powerful, though there was no competition. He had done everything – _everything _– in his power to make sure that he was on top. The one to be feared yet admired. Envied, but respected.

Somehow he lost himself along the way.

. . .

"Hello, Jupiter," her voice is seductive; her curves captured and held within a ravishing, dark blue dress. It takes all his willpower not to run to her and smash his lips on her own. _(But he knows how to refrain – he is not Roman for nothing, after all. He knows there is a time and place for such things.)_

"I see that you bought a new dress," he says, even though he doesn't know at all. _(Rome's strategy was to attack, not to find _diplomatic _solutions.) _

"Yes, just for you," she breathes against his cheek, kissing him on his lips.

He finds himself saying, "Good."

.

.

.

When he wakes the next morning, she is already up. _(Some part of him – somewhere deep, deep inside – thinks of that other night, in another form, in another day, but he banishes the thought before it can affect him.) _

"I see that you are awake." She turns to him, almost startled. Her arms are crossed, as if she is holding herself together. _(Had he been in a different form, perhaps he would have noticed the signs. How she was slowly tumbling into madness.)_

"Of course," she chuckles softly. "How could I sleep with a god next to me?"

"You didn't seem so troubled last time."

She stares at him, a look of confusion crossing her eyes for merely a second. "I did not know before, did I?" She crosses over the bed to kiss him. "I'm glad you came, though. Thalia was wondering . . . but you will not stay?"

He does not answer. He does not need to.

.

.

.

This is what causes her to break. The thought of losing what was most precious to her: he. How could she raise a child with no father? How could she balance her career with no rock grounding her to the world? How could she stay sane with no one to be sane for?

"Make me immortal! You love me, you say, but do you? Do you love me enough to make me immortal – forever beautiful, forever young? Forever a challenge to your so-called _wife_?" _(She screams this often now – or pleads, more likely – whenever she wanders again. No longer charming, witty – but crazed, distressed. Lost.)_

"Do not insult Juno," he snarls, not harsh but not kind either, "you do not know what she could do . . ."

"I don't need to, Jupiter. Do you love me?"

"Yes, you know I—," he starts, and she stops him.

"No more lies. If you loved me than you would grant my wish, would you not?"

"Enough! Do not speak of this anymore, mortal!" he screams, commanding. She does not yield – no, once a fighter, always a fighter.

"No! No, Jupiter, I'm not done—"

He slaps her. _(This is not how he wanted to become.)_

_. . ._

_I believe it is safe to say that the gods,_

_Split personalities they may be,_

_Are always going to be_

_One._

* * *

**Sorry for not updating in forever, my faithful readers. Does this appease? 'Cause right now I'm thinking this is my favorite for the gods.**


	55. Of Pregnant Woman and Appendixes

**Dedication: to AHumanRobot, because if it "doesn't matter" than this will surely suffice, even if it is only one-hundred words.**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_55. Of Pregnant Woman and Appendixes_

"Mom!" the little girl complained. "I feel like a pregnant woman!"

The mother – a demigod beauty – scowled. "Oh no you don't."

"Yes," she whined loudly, "I do. I feel like a freaking pregnant woman!"

Katie stared down her daughter down. "Annabelle, just because your appendix was taken out does not mean you feel like a pregnant woman. _I _would know."

Annabelle merely huffed. "I am clutching my stomach and my back to sit up straight. _I _would know."

Katie just put her hands up in the universal sign of surrender. "Fine, but when you get pregnant, then you'll understand me."

* * *

**Sorry. I just couldn't resist =) Until next time.**


	56. Heartbeats

**To all the people who favorite and alert, but never review. I'm begging; come on, review. This is dedicated to you all, at least.**

_In Between Our Lies_

_56. Heartbeats_

_One, two, three_

His heartbeats are limited, now.

Deep, down inside Kronos, Luke Castellan knows this. He knows that he is too weak to try and wretch free of his Titanly grasp – too weak to fight the restraints that hold him. He has made the wrong choice, yet again. What would his mother think? (Nothing, 'cause she's crazy.) He doubts she would be happy – ashamed, possibly. (If only she understood what was going on when he talked to her – if he _would_ talk to her.)

He wonders how Annabeth and Thalia are coping, and what punishment the gods will give him if he loses. He wonders how Percy will take his revenge – is he brave enough to? He wonders a lot, truth be told. He wonders a fair bit about Thalia, and about Annabeth. They are – were (how can he keep using _past _tense?) – family.

But does he love both of them more than family? (Does he love one more than the other?)

_Four, five, six_

"Annabeth," he says, "you could come and stay with us. We wouldn't have to kill you – you'd be a goddess among the mortals. 'Annabeth the Great Architect of the New Olympus' they'll call you. Come on." He's begging now – _begging_. He's begging because he needs at least one of his girls back in his life again. (Oh, if they could only see him now – what would Kronos think?) "Didn't you want something special – to build something special?"

"No," she spits coldly, and he reels back (cowardly). "I won't be your _Annabeth the Great Architect of the New Olympus_. You can go ahead and find another. I'm sure you have other girlfriends to run off and beg to be your slave." This hurts – _really_ hurts, even though he's supposed to be invulnerable, the Styx cannot prevent emotional damages – and her eyes are turning into slits. "You should go back to Kronos, Luke."

"Annie . . ."

"Don't call me _that_!" she snaps. (He considers saying that old nickname again, just to annoy her, but thinks better of it.) "You have no right! No right, you hear me? No right to go talking to me like you're an old friend!"

"But I _am _an old friend!"

She shakes her head as if she's sad or disappointed or maybe pitying Luke. "You're not the Luke Castellan I grew up with."

And the scene changes. He feels a sharp stab in his abdomen.

_Seven, Eight, Nine_

Thalia, laughing as a younger girl, "Come on, Luke! Don't be such a butthole! Wouldn't want to spoil all the fun, now would we? Stop being so cautious for once, will you? Live life, idiot! Don't let it fly you buy . . ." This was before Annabeth was with them; before Thalia became Mother Thalia.

"I said no, Thalia." His younger self is smiling, though, as if he has every intention of doing what Thalia wants.

"But Luuuke," she whines like a young infant, "I just want this _one _thing to . . . to remind me of home; of what I wanted to be home."

"Okay, Thalia, but it's still no." (Later that evening, Luke steals a CD with her mother's music on it, and it brings a smile to Thalia's face.)

_Ten_

Only one of his girls was there to see his death. Annabeth Chase, and yet there was no Thalia. Vaguely, Luke wondered where she was; what she was doing; what happened, because Thalia Grace would not voluntarily leave Annabeth Chase unprotected, even if a certain Perseus Jackson was her knight.

He hands the knife to Luke, and all the world turns black.

His last thoughts are of Annabeth, and of Thalia; both fighters, struggling their way into a special spot in his heart.

* * *

_fin_

**For those who hadn't heard, I just can't get on like I used to. Don't worry. This story will keep going . . . and going . . . and one day, I hope this story will be half as good as shadowinthedark's "Love Me, Hate Me, Everything In Between"**


	57. Of Planning and Staying Unsuspected

**Dedicated to: i love my best friends, who has waited patiently for this long-awaited promise, while FF was trying to screw me over by NOT LETTING ME UPDATE WHEN I'VE HAD THIS FOR A WHOLE FLIBBIN' WEEK!**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_57. Of Planning and Staying Unsuspected [Part One of the 'Getting Tratie Back Together' series]_

"Hey, Mom!" Annabelle yelled as she came into her house. "Will home yet?" She had started calling him 'Will' instead of 'Dad' ever since she found out Travis Stoll was her _real _father – or, sperm donor, whichever term is preferred. _(Will didn't like it at first, but he managed. [Damn straight. You're not _my_ dad.])_

"No, sweetie, your father had a late night today. He's working double-time in the ER because there was an accident at the factory today." She doesn't respond, just runs up the steps into her room – she doesn't want to hear about dead people and shoe companies today.

_(This is the summer. The summer everything would change.)_

. . .

"O, Iris, accept my offering." _(This was her first time trying to IM someone. She'd seen her parents do it, but she wondered if she was doing it right.) _"Aphrodite, Mount Olympus." She didn't know if Aphrodite would approve of her IM'ing, but she _was _the love goddess. And what she was about do was certainly in the name of love.

"I'm glad you finally decided to call, darling." The goddess purses her lips in disapproval. "I was beginning to think you changed your mind about . . ."

"Of course not. I'm going to need your help."

. . .

"Will, is that you?" a bleak, dreary voice can be heard by Will Solace, one of the main surgeons. "Will Solace, from Camp?"

"_Drew_?" you can hear the incredulous tone in Will's voice, as if this is some dream – too good to be true; a miracle of some kind. "Oh, gods, who got hurt?"

Drew's eyes – that now hold a spark of hopefulness, which is a big improvement to Will – fall to the floor in . . . sadness? "My brother. Gods, Will, you have to save him! He's the only thing I have left and . . ." To his surprise – or perhaps not, since Will'd seen many emotional reactions during his time in the hospital – she falls to the floor and starts crying.

Will has never, in his entire career, tried to calm a patient's family member. It had always been an _I'm so sorry _or _he lived _and sometimes even a _he's in a better place now_. But he's never said _shh, don't cry _to anyone – not even Katie – and now he's saying it to Drew.

The girl he had a crush on back during his teenage years at camp.

And he's _comforting_ her, while his wife is at home alone, eating dinner with their – her – daughter. He disgusts himself.

. . .

Travis comes over later that evening, when Annabelle is – supposedly – in bed. "Hey, Katie," he walks in the door as though this is _his _home, _his _wife, _his _daughter – which, technically, she is – and it just bugs Katie _so _much, but she can't say anything about it, because of course that's _rude_. _(And Katie's always been one for proper etiquette, mind you.)_

"Travis, what are you doing here?" It's not so much an accusation as it is a polite question – formal, frozen.

Travis stops dead in his tracks. "Well, Katie, I was coming home from work—" _(_it's ten o'clock, _thinks Katie)_,"and I was wondering if Annabelle was still awake and . . ."

"Of course not!" Katie says, as if this is an _obvious _thing – which, to Travis, it's not _(because he's not even a single parent – he's just a single)_. "It's too late at night; the girl has school tomorrow."

And then there's this awkward silence and the crickets are chirping and it's just _weird _because Travis wants to just kiss Katie and Katie wants to run and hide because _she was a fool_ for just giving up Travis like that.

"Okay. I lied. I want to go on a date with you, Katie."

. . .

Drew is giggling – and then feeling guilty about giggling while her brother _(by for-real blood – not that fake-ass kind that passes for genetics) _could possibly die. Of course, Drew still has Aphrodite blood in her, so the guilt is toned down a bit. But just a bit.

"Thanks for eating dinner with me, Will," she says like some love-crazed schoolgirl – which, for a time, she once was. It's different: role-playing and then actually feeling it _(the love, not the 'schoolgirl' bit)_. Less pretend; more dramatic, almost.

"Oh, it's no problem," Will consoles. "I had fun." And then he blushes – actually _blushes _– and Drew is wondering if she looks good and then if he's blushing over the fact that she charms him, or the teensy detail that there are lives that could be being saved while they're on this little 'date'. Oh, and then there's the fact that Will is _married _and Drew – she couldn't stop the practice, being who she was, even if her morals changed slightly – has about five different boyfriends.

_(Deep in the recesses of both their minds, they're thinking how _wrong _this is and they better get home before anyone notices.) _

. . .

And so we come back to Annabelle – who, you remember, was supposedly 'asleep' – and she jolts up in her bed when she hears, "Okay. I lied. I want to go on a date with you, Katie." And of course right at that moment her mother is – to use the term – shell-shocked and her mouth is probably open in that way it does when she's taken completely off-guard.

And – thanks to a certain goddess – she can see everything without even getting out of her bed. "I know, you have a husband and all, but Katie, I honestly don't _care _anymore. I'm tired of taking Annabelle home for the weekends and seeing _you _in her face and _me _in her stupid pranks – which aren't half bad, actually. And then there's the fact that she always runs up to Will like _he's _the father and _I'm _the best friend.

"I don't want to _pretend _anymore, Katie. I don't like pretending that I don't love you or that we're from different worlds – because, honestly, you and I go way back. And then, there's a daughter to think about – _you _were the one who said she needed to know her _real _father; the one you loved. Well, I have her. She knows me. Now what?

"She doesn't _really _know me – I'm just some guy who Mom hooked up with, huh? Aren't I? Well, I don't _want _to be, Katie. I want you and I want her and I want to _start over_." Annabelle smiles into her hand and her mother is probably thinking, _this isn't Travis. I do not know this man. He has just poured his heart out. _

"Okay," Katie says, "one date, and we'll try. I don't promise to love you – but I will try, Travis."

Travis gives one of his classic half-smiles and says, "Thanks, Katie-kat," and her mother smiles.

* * *

**Huh. Finally, huh? Fanfiction wouldn't let me update; sorry for the run-on sentences; blah, blah. You get it. So, suck it FF! Janae no update, huh? Well , up yours!**

**BTW: Have a robotics comp tomorrow! PRAY. FOR. US!**


	58. Of Dates and Spying

**DEDICATION: for filmfurry. Only for you would I get off my lazy butt after forever and start typing this up. (I feel like I'm writing a soap, you know that?)**

* * *

_58. Of Dates and Spying [Part Two of the 'Getting Tratie Back Together' series]_

It's the weekend now and Annabelle is just jittery with pure happiness – she just told her mother she had cramps – and can't wait to see how the date goes. Funny how it takes a girl, a goddess, and a restaurant to bring two people together. You'd think they'd put up less of a fight.

"Mom!" Annabelle calls. "When is Dad coming? I'm actually packed already."

Her mother appears in the doorway – magically, the woman has some crazy mother power – and seems to detect that something is off. "You _never _pack before Travis gets here."

She just shrugs, all nonchalant and innocent. "He promised we could prank Uncle Conner today. And it's not like I have anything better to do in my spare time . . ."

This, of course, gets her mother to leave and she does a victory dance in her head.

. . .

"Drew?" Will says softly, his arms around her tightly.

"Yes?" She looks up – almost innocently; almost childlike.

"I saved your brother." She wants to believe him, but some small part of her just _doesn't_.

"Thank you," she says, and leans up to kiss him.

. . .

And eventually Travis does come to pick up his daughter, and she whines just enough so that they really _do _go prank Conner, although he'll probably just get them back when they least expect it.

And when Travis tucks her in and says goodnight, Annabelle says, "I love you, Daddy," and pretends to fall asleep right then. Travis doesn't know exactly what to make of it; he just knows he's feeling a bit warm inside. So he walks out the door and gets ready for his date.

And Annabelle's eyes open.

. . .

Katie's humming and putting her special earrings from years ago into her ears. She can't believe she's getting all dressed up for this moment. It's not exactly the date of the century, so what's the point?

The point is this is _Travis Stoll _we're talking about and Katie Gardener still loves him.

How is the husband of said Mrs. Gardener feeling about this, you ask? Well, Katie told him, and he apparently either wasn't using his listening ears or he really didn't care because he said, "That's great, honey," and went back to looking at his paperwork. Of course, a certain daughter of Aphrodite was probably occupying his mind at the present time, but still, that's no excuse. Sure, she's got those longlonglong legs and hair he'd like to run his hands through . . .

Ahem. Back to Katie preparing for her date.

Now she's eating a little bowl of cereal for good measure because, well, a little cereal never hurt anybody and her mother was fond of the stuff. Getting the grace of a goddess on your side isn't cheating – but, well, it certainly wouldn't be known as fair play on Travis' part.

. . .

And Annabelle – who we all know, was wide awake and probably thinking her bedtime really should be extended – was looking through mist again, for the third time in _ever _and wondering if she would get better reception anywhere else.

Her father is being a _(somewhat) _perfect gentleman, and her mother the perfect lady. But then they get to their table and become their normal selves again. There's that awkward first-get-to-the-table-and-we're-not-settled-in-yet silence that the waiter is certainly happy to interrupt. "Hello, my name is Michael and I'll be your server today, Mr. and Mrs. Stoll. Would you care for any drinks or appetizers?"

Katie is bewildered that: 1) the man called her Mrs. Stoll and 2) he knew she was a Mrs. and . . . a _Stoll? _and 3) _Stoll? _"How did he know your name was Stoll?" she asks Travis. "How did he know I was a _Mrs._?"

Travis, for once, has the perfect, logical answer besides the humorous one. "Well, I _did _make reservations, Katie-kat, _and _he probably saw the ring that is so obvious on your finger. Why, were you absolutely _flattered _that he thought you were a Mrs. Stoll?"

"Shut up."

. . .

The date, of course, went splendidly and they promised to do it again sometime. They did; several occasions, in fact. Will was seemingly infatuated with Drew most of the time, so the divorce was nothing new to him. If anything, it came at the right time, because he proposed to Drew with more flourish than he had with Katie.

Then came the time that Travis proposed to Katie, and the wedding was fabulous and the honeymoon was an absolute disaster. _(What did you expect? You have a daughter who isn't exactly one.) _The Stolls couldn't bring themselves to care one bit. But that, however, is another story for another day.

The parents of Miss Annabelle never did find out about her little scheme with Aphrodite – though, I'm sure, they would've thanked her rather than punished her, seeing as it brought the two together.

And they all lived happily ever after . . .

_(Yes, even Drew's brother who was neither an antagonist nor a protagonist to this story.)_

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**Note: Is it possible that we can get to 400 reviews before chapter 63? Maybe even before 60?**

**Nah, it's not . . . (wanna prove me wrong?)**


	59. Of Opposites and Relationships

**DEDICATION: **for **xXxDaughteroftheKingxXx**, who is wonderful at both freeverse and regular stories. She got me to **400 reviews!**

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_59. Of Opposites and Relationships_

They pretend to hate each other but they really don't.

. . .

He can barely stand when they're in a room with other people. He just wants to kiss those fullfullfull red lips, but they have a façade to keep – and she's almost prettier when said lips are otherwise more occupied with replying with smart alec comments. In a place where rumors stalk and actions are immortal, an image is meant to be kept.

She is an actress, so she at least manages. But the goddess of love must notice the hidden glances, swollen lips, and how both struggle harder for witty comebacks; a sarcastic snarl.

However, Aphrodite was always one for her star-crossed lovers, so she keeps quiet.

. . .

"We . . . I . . . have," breathes Athena, knowing that this is wrong but hopehopehoping that it doesn't matter anyway, "to go . . . meet, um . . . Annabeth."

He looks at her, pulling away. Perhaps it was the mere mention of a daughter who wasn't his own. "Why?"

She squirms under his relentless gaze, less wise and more awkward. "It's for Olympus; I have to help her with the designs – or, at least, she wants me to approve them."

He gives a frown and pouts. "You don't have to go."

She gives him a frown herself. "Shut up. You know I do."

And she leaves, but she always comes back.

. . .

"I . . . I should go. Amphrite wants me home today," he says, almost apologetically. He doesn't want to leave, but it is a duty and an obligation.

She laughs. Because he is always thinking of his wife. _Okay. Leave me for her, _she thinks, _right_.

But she is wise and knows he will just flash away anyways, so she just says, "Have fun" and you can almost detect the tiniest hint of jealousy, of longing.

He kisses her – gently this time – and manages a rueful smile. "I'll be thinking of you."

She doesn't say anything, because thinking and doing are two very different things.

He drawls very quietly into the shadows, because he knows this, too.

. . .

She wants to kill him, she really does.

"You . . . wed . . . our . . . children?" she screams. "Poseidon!"

He turns around. "Ah, Athena, how have you—"

"Don't play with me, Poseidon! Percy and Annabeth! You _wed _them! They're _married_!"

He resists the sarcastic road, instead deciding to defend himself with, "They got me _drunk_! I'm not even a priest, anyways, so why does it matter?"

"I can't believe you," she says coldly, and then there's that long, awkward silence that are always followed by clichés or dramas or life-changing events.

So she gives him a slow, small kiss and says, "I forgive you" and he wonders what he ever did wrong in the first place.

. . .

"You should go swimming sometime," he mumbles while they're cuddled together. "It'd be nice. I could watch over you . . ."

"Yes, and if one of the nymphs catch me? No amount of your threatening or begging – even if you are their lord – can keep a juicy secret like that. Can't you see that?" she asks, wanting to go but knowing that his idea is a stupid one.

"They won't. I'll send them away or . . ."

"Poseidon, don't."

. . .

Being the all-powerful and wise being that she is, she should have seen this coming.

Because all good things must come to an end.

. . .

"I've heard you've found a new one," he says, trying to break tensions even though he knows this will only bring them further down.

"Yes," she says, a little bit ashamed because this might be an obligation. But she's no wife. "He's a scholar at Yale University."

"I don't care about your little boy toy's antics, Athena. He may be university material, but he's no god."

"Oh, really?" She is taken aback by his answer, his jealousy. "And what of _you_, Poseidon? Now you are free to have children; free to be in a relationship. Do not tell me you haven't found _someone_, because you're almost as bad as Apollo himself."

"Yes . . .," he mumbles sheepishly.

"And what of your new girl, Poseidon? Tell her you're a god yet?"

"No. She's . . . she's a surfer from Florida. Just out of college."

They are trying to size each other up; to up the other, besting them. They stare blankly, knowing that their expiration date has come. "You should hang with her, then."

"And I know you'd just _love _to discuss Pi with your boy toy. Go ahead. No one's stopping you here."

"Fine."

"Fine."


	60. Of September Eleven

DEDICATION: for all those of today that aren't remembered.

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_60. September Eleven_

A quiet, rather clever, young girl of the Athena cabin, by the name of "Abigail March", was gathered in a circle around the centaur Chiron. There were others of her age there, though the numbers were few. Being only one of the few seven-year olds there, she was subject to what was scheduled as "Story Time [1:00-2:00]" but what Abigail would always refer to as the "Baby Class". For, while the class was meant to be educational, it mainly resulted in most of the children getting read to – even though the Athenians were probably already reading "Hamlet", and understanding it.

Today – a rather sunny day, few clouds amidst – Abigail decided to make good use of "Baby Class". "Chiron?" she said, looking straight into his eyes, and he had to look into her grey ones, for she sat across from him.

"Yes, child?" he answered, weary, for he knew the day.

"You do know what today is, don't you? I was wondering, perhaps, if you would tell us anything about Nine-Eleven. For I'm fairly certain that those mortal 'terrorists' didn't just strike vitally important places just because it was September. It was demigods, wasn't it?" She finished with a rather proud air – for, though she was a child of Athena, she was rather haughty, and was rather glad when she was right.

"No," he said. "Though mortal affairs are nothing you should trifle yourself with, Abigail, unless you want to go for politics."

Abigail March would not be at all surprised if one told her Chiron was lying.

* * *

**Not sure how demigods would have anything to do with a "terrorist" attack, but I'm sure Riordan would find a way.**


	61. Of Loving and Wishing

DEDICATION: For **AstheticPokemon**, 'cause I promised && she's awesome.

**UNREALISTIC EXPECTATION: **Those with Facebook accounts,, like my page. It's just "Bookluva98",, or the link is on my wall. Haven't been using it much 'cause not that many people know about it yet. But like and tell friends.

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_61. Honestly, I love you (or, spirit takes you nowhere, honey)_

"I missed you," Piper McLean says to Leo Valdez, almost lying through her teeth – but maybe a small part is telling the truth. They're at the Roman camp that Piper hasn't bothered to learn the name of because Leo is going to college there. She honestly does _not _want to be here but Leo wants the degree his mom couldn't have.

"Are you alright?" he asks her, and she shakes her head _yes _but doesn't mean it. "You sure? You don't have to be here – I know you are, for me, but—"

"No," she lies, "I want to, honest. I really like you. It's just . . ."

"I know," he says, but she has a feeling he doesn't. Then it's silent and the conversation feels unfinished but they've never been good at conversation.

They let the name that almost escapes their lips hang in the air.

. . .

She rests her head against his shoulder, closes her eyes, and for a moment she can pretend he has blonde hair and blue eyes and is Roman. But his breathing is far too ragged and it causes her eyes to fly open—

The daydream shatters.

. . .

He sometimes wishes that her eyes weren't so dull now. He knows why, of course, and he'd do everything to change that—

If only her request was reasonable.

But you can't bring people back from the dead.

. . .

"I love you," he whispers to her late in the night. She's drunk off grief but hears an inkling of it anyway.

"I know," she says, because it's really the only condolance she can offer at this point. "I'm sorry." But _sorry _doesn't bring people back from the dead and it doesn't make you love someone else.

"You can't stop thinking of him, can you?" he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

"I know you want me to, but . . . He's everywhere I look, you know. I want this to work, honestly—"

He waves his hands in indifference because _what does it matter? _She will never love him, but she will stay. "You don't have to lie."

She stays silent because she has no answer to that.

. . .

She kisses him and thinks of a boy who died at war.

He kisses her and thinks of a boy who she still loves.


	62. Of Sisterly Conversations and Romance

DEDICATION: For everyone who has read, reviewed, and stuck by me this whole time—even when updates are spastic and nonregular.

**UNREALISTIC EXPECTATION: **…review?

* * *

_In Between Our Lies_

_62. You Should Know the Answer by Now_

The Aphrodite cabin is, in a mediocre word, pretty. The appearance is pretty. It smells pretty. The residents are pretty. _It is pretty._

Silena Beauregard sighs contently, staring at a picture of two people—Percy Jackson and Charles Beckendorf, arms slung over one another. In her youth, the picture was useful in the way that she could gaze at her two schoolgirl crushes. Percy Jackson had always been quite handsome—and she would have taken him from Annabeth if she was not a daughter of Aphrodite. (The pair was just _too cute_—how could she ruin that?) Charles Beckendorf, however, well, he was attainable.

She would have broken his heart if he wasn't so unbearably sweet. Or, maybe not. Perhaps she did not have enough heart to break someone else's.

"What are you looking at, Silena?" asks her half-sister, Drew. She is only a year or two younger, but has always seemed endearing in a childish way. Her wide eyes sparkle in her youth.

"My boyfriend." Silena holds up the picture for Drew to inspect. She snatches it from her sister's hands, and her eyes widen. Usually, when Aphrodite children talk about romance, it rivals children receiving unexpected gifts.

"_You_ stole Percy Jackson from Annabeth Chase? I mean, I heard someone did but I never would have thought _you _did. I heard it was some mortal, actually. Some pretty mortal—her name was Dare or Dear or something. I don't know. But can you _imagine_? Our hero being wooed by a _mortal _girl! But Percy Jackson is quite handsome; you're right. I'm sure he looks quite good on your arm—"

"Drew," interrupts Silena, "Percy Jackson is not my boyfriend." She laughs—pure and jovial—at the girl's mistake, though not unkindly.

"Then who—_Charles Beckendorf_?" Drew asks incredulously.

"Yes," swoons she.

"Why? He's so . . ." She sounds so _disgusted_. That's not an uncommon thing for children of Aphrodite to feel—disgust towards Hephaestus' descendants—given the pair's rocky relationship. But Silena had expected Drew to at least be happy for her—for them. "How could you ever love _him_?"

"I already do," Silena sighs. "You're a smart girl, Drew. You should know by now that love is not about looking pretty or breaking hearts. Love—love is fireworks. Love is your heart beating a million times a minute and wondering if he can hear it and knowing he wouldn't care. Love is having someone know you like the back of their hand, imperfections and all, and still _want _to be around you."

"And you want this boy—this Charles Beckendorf—to be somebody who knows you?" Drew's outrage is voiced in the same parental tone. It says _You are wrong_; _You are foolish_; _I know better than you do_. Her arms are crossed, one leg out in a bratty stance. "He's not good enough for you."

Silena smiles. "Drew, dear, according to you, no one will ever be good enough for me."

"Percy Jackson just might," she broods.

In the Silence that follows, Silena Beauregard thinks of her lover, and feels she has not adequately defended him.

"Drew, you're a smart girl, right? You asked how I could love someone like Charles Beckendorf. The answer is this: Love isn't all about making you look pretty or having money or anything materialistic like that. I am in love with Charles Beckendorf because he makes me a better person." With that, she sits back, finally satisfied.


End file.
